Shomakhâl
by Princess Shania
Summary: After their burglar signs the contract, the Dwarves find out Bilbo's age. Horrified, they assign a guardian to him to keep their youngest member safe. Until he'd been given his guardian, Bilbo never realised how he'd missed having family. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Adopted from Gangel, chapter 'Lost and Found'. For those of you who have read it, you'll know it fixates on creating a parental relationship between Gloin and Bilbo. For those of you who haven't, well now you know. I've been lucky enough so far to only stumble upon fanfictions which hint at their friendship/relationship whatever you call it. I prefer to write them as a family because I, personally, can see it happening.  
The chapter that inspired this work will not be placed into this particular story.  
Unlike Gangel, this won't be a series of one-shots.**

**You see, in this, it starts in Bag End. It's a little bit AU-like because Bilbo is only 39 years old in this fanfic, and he's got more of that Tookish streak, so he adds his signature to the contract after hearing the Dwarrow's story. Then the Dwarves suddenly think, 'wait, how old is he?' Then all hell breaks loose. They decide he needs a guardian, and that's when the relationship between Gloin and Bilbo begins.**

**That's enough from me, I hope you enjoy the story!**

_**Akhûnith- Khuzdul for 'one that is young'.**_

* * *

"I will sign the contract."

Gandalf hid a smile. He knew Bilbo would. You can't possibly grow up with Belladonna Took as your mother and not gain at least some part of her adventurous spirit. As he watched the son of his old friend sign the parchment, he noticed Oin was looking at Bilbo with his head turned to one side. Gandalf _knew _that look. It mean Oin suspected something. And he had a feeling he knew exactly what.

"Here, lad, how old are you?" Oin called over.

"Me? I'm 39." At the Dwarves' suddenly dazed expressions, he hastily added; "Years. I'm thirty nine years."

"Thirty nine... You let a _child _sign the contract?!" Balin asked Gandalf in stunned disbelief.

"Of course I didn't..."

"But, he's not even forty! He's a babe for Mahal's sake!" Bofur argued, looking over at the now rather irritated Hobbit.

"I," Bilbo said as loudly as he could over the rabble, "am not a babe or a _child_, thank you _very _much. I am of _age_, I'll have you all know!"

"Yes, lad." said Dwalin in an unintentionally patronizing tone.

"He can't unsign the contract, can he?" Nori wanted to know.

"What d'you mean, _'unsign' it_?" Dori asked

"Well, can he scratch his name out?"

"_That is enough_!" Gandalf thundered. "If he has signed it, then that's that! He _will _be accompanying you and you _will _allow it!"

There was a short silence, broken by the soft clicking of a faraway clock's hands.

"He could have one of us as guardian, couldn't he?" Ori suggested.

"Yes! Very good, Ori!"

"But which one?" Bombur asked.

"Ooh, us!"

"Mahal forbid. Kili, you'd destroy the poor bugger if he was left in your care."

As the Dwarves argued, Gandalf stood and left the room, muttering about the lunacy of Dwarves and other things Bilbo didn't quite hear. He trotted after the Wizard, wondering just what was going on now.

"You see, Bilbo," Gandalf explained, suddenly kneeling in front of Bilbo to look him in the eyes. "Dwarves age differently to Hobbits. They come of age at 72 years, whilst Hobbits come of age at 33 years. That is why they're so worried, though I still believe they are overreacting over this whole thing."

"Why are they worried so over my age?"

"Children are more precious to Dwarves than any stone or metal the Earth has to offer. To them, you are a child. They probably feel regret at your signing it. Heaven knows what they'll do now. Probably assign Dori to you."

"Do I look like a child to you?" Bilbo asked.

"Well..."

Bilbo looked at the Wizard's twinkling, blue eyes and allowed himself to smile. Trust Gandalf to find the situation funny. "My poor father's probably spinning in his grave."

"Your mother would find this whole occurrence terribly amusing, Bilbo."

Bilbo chuckled. "She would."

Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder. "Know this. The Dwarves will not harm you. You must try and trust them. Particularly as this guardianship is going to occur."

"Can't _you _be my guardian?"

"I won't always be there. Of course, I will be with you, but not always. They will be keeping that in mind, you see."

"Where will you be going?"

Gandalf huffed a small laugh. "Problems to deal with arise all the time, my dear Hobbit. I do not know what they are yet. Don't be afraid when I am not there. They will protect you."

Remembering all he'd seen from them and recalling Gandalf's words, Bilbo felt himself nod. "I know they will."

"Lad!" someone called from the room they'd vacated. "Come here, a minute, would you?"

Gandalf stood, smiling down at Bilbo. "Best be off now, Bilbo. Remember what I told you."

As Bilbo made his way to the Dwarves, he briefly wondered if, wherever she was, his mother was indeed laughing.

* * *

**I went through _three _different situations to make Gloin and Bilbo bond before I found this one. Praises be to Ori the Plot Bunny! Hope it was enjoyed, please say if it was or wasn't!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	2. First Day

Gloin was going to kill the Wizard. He'd waxed lyrical about the courage of Hobbits, but he'd sorely neglected to tell them one thing.

The curiosity.

Well, if he didn't kill the Wizard first, he'd certainly kill the Hobbit. Blasted creature, getting himself lost every five seconds. Bofur, who wasn't even the guardian of said Hobbit, was going mad with fear every time it happened and Gloin was about ready to cut his losses and simply hold onto the pony of the lad's reins if he got himself lost again.

Oin's snickering wasn't helping matters.

"For the love of the Maker," Gloin muttered. "Stop your cackling, you mad old goat. This isn't funny."

"It reminds me of all the times _you _got lost as a beardling," snorted Oin. "And, now you know what it's like to worry over someone like this."

"You know, _Gimli never_ wandered off!"

"He's barely been out of Ered Luin!" Oin reminded him.

"You could help here. Technically, he's under _your_ guardianship too."

"Aye, when _you're_ not here, he is. But for now, he's _all_ yours." Oin replied, grinning like a loon. "You should enjoy the experience while you can."

Gloin glared at him and began calling for Bilbo for the twelfth time that day.

* * *

Bilbo didn't feel at all happy with their choice of guardian. Gloin may very well have been nice enough to those who knew him, but he barely said anything to Bilbo and when he did, he sounded sharp and bitter. He didn't wish to stay close to someone who didn't want him so close and decided to stay out of his way. At least until they got to know each other better.

Unfortunately, Gloin didn't like that very much. He kept muttering about 'going to get lost' and now had a hold of Myrtle's reins, so staying away wasn't an option anymore.

Glancing towards the serious-looking Dwarrow, Bilbo internally sighed.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

It wasn't that Gloin disliked Bilbo. Quite the opposite, really. He just didn't know what to do with him and he wasn't happy that the lad kept escaping from him. At Thorin's order to stop, he released Myrtle's reins, glad to finally be free of that part of his duties. Surely Bilbo wouldn't wander off now.

Oin thumped his arm. "You daft pillock, why don't you talk to him? No wonder the bugger kept going away."

Gloin snorted. "He should be staying where he is, _regardless _of what goes on."

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to get to know him," Nori said.

"I never asked your opinion." Gloin said. "And I'll thank you to keep it to yourself, Nori."

"I'm only saying," Nori continued, ignoring Gloin's earlier statement, "that it would do more good than harm to talk to him a bit."

"Aye. Nori's right, there." Oin said, nodding agreeably.

"We get on fine." Gloin said, firmly.

Nori sputtered. "Fine?! He looks like a mouse next to a cat!"

"Aye. And you looked like you were about to kill 'im most of the day."

"Ohh," Gloin muttered. "You pair of conniving, miserable devils."

"Well," said Nori in a conspirational manner, "Dori noticed. So, unless you want him breathing down your neck about it-"

Gloin held a hand up, stopping the thief from continuing. "Alright! Fine, I'll go over now then."

Oin allowed himself another chuckle while Nori lightly shook his head.

"Nori, how much would you like to bet that it goes badly?"

"It could go quite well, I think." Nori answered, drawing a pouch out from his coat.

* * *

He'd simply asked the Hobbit to help him collect the firewood. A simple enough task and it gave him time to think of something to ask the creature. He considered for quite some time a topic to ask before finally deciding on one.

"Do you have any brothers?"

"No, I don't," Bilbo answered, wondering why Gloin was asking this of him.

"Is it only you, then?"

"Yes. My mother and father didn't have any others."

"Ah," Gloin thought for a moment and continued. "It's amazing how many children some couples will have. You see some having _six _children and more. Incredible, isn't it?"

Bilbo nodded. "My mother was one of thirteen children and my father was one of five."

"What? Did your grandparents have nothing better to do?"

Ignoring that, Bilbo said, "it's normal for Hobbits to have large families. Don't you have large families?"

"Well, three children is considered a blessing. Four is all but unheard of. Five children is unthinkable and thirteen is an _impossible _number."

"Why?"

"Not enough lasses. And it's difficult thing to carry a child and give birth."

"There are Dwarf _women_?"

"Of course there are! What d'you think happens, that Dwarves come out of the stone?"

Back at the camp, everyone stilled in alarm as Gloin's voice bellowed, "_What do you mean, you thought they were a _myth_?!_"

Nori sighed as he handed over the coins. He really should have known it would end badly.

* * *

"Our dear mother is a myth, is she?" Fili asked, lightly nudging Bilbo.

"Well, that _is _a shame, isn't it? I rather thought she existed." Kili said, companionably standing beside their burglar.

"Stop!" Bilbo protested. "I meant no offence."

"We know that." Fili laughed, hooking an arm around Bilbo's shoulders.

"Yeah!" Kili confirmed. "Besides, everyone thought it was hilarious. Even Uncle!"

"Gloin rather thought the opposite." Bilbo added in a rather small voice.

"It's alright," Kili said, anxious to bring a smile to their Hobbit. "We're going to help."

"We've actually instigated a bet with Ori and Bofur over who will be first to get Master Gloin and you to become closer." Fili revealed, his blue eyes glittering in all-too eager a way in the sun's dying orange light.

Deciding he would probably be better off trusting them with their help, Bilbo gave a nod. "What do you have planned?"

* * *

"For Mahal's love." Oin groaned. "You can't hold that mistake against him, Gloin, you just can't."

"A myth, he said. A _myth!_"

"So, I take it you're _miffed _then?" Nori asked, a rather wolfish grin on his face.

"Oh, shut up, you daft sod." Gloin answered, though Nori's pun rather amused him.

"Bilbo is 39 and probably hasn't seen a _male _Dwarf before us," Oin said reasonably. "Do forgive him, 'cos I tell you, he won't trust you to look out for him if you keep getting angry with him."

While the two brothers bantered about it, Fili and Kili watched from a distance, their Hobbit sandwiched between them.

"Alright, Bilbo," whispered Fili. "Remember what we told you."

"Eye contact, look as sad as you can and end your apology with 'I hope one day you can forgive me'." Kili reminded him.

"Are you sure all this works with Thorin?"

"Yes," Kili replied.

"Now, off you go," whispered Fili.

"Good luck!"

"Now, look, he's coming this way," Oin said. "I'm warning you, _don't _be an idiot."

"You dream of the impossible, don't you, Master Oin?" Nori drawled, grinning impishly at Gloin.

"Don't rile him up now, Nori. Quick, move!" With a last warning look at his younger sibling, Oin pushed Nori onward and left Gloin to meet their burglar.

* * *

It must have been quite the surprise to Nori and Bilbo, but Oin barely batted an eyelid as he watched Gloin's once rigid and angry poise transform into one of frankly sickening tenderness. The thing with Gloin was that he couldn't bear to leave a young one unhappy and unforgiven. He just could not do it, which made Bilbo's look of surprise all the funnier.

Undoubtedly the Halfling found the whole debacle humorless and Oin spotted him darting poisonous looks over his shoulder to where Fili and Kili stood, as if to say, _'Now, look what you've gotten me into!'_

"He should," Oin heard Nori mutter into his ear horn, "count himself lucky he's not being hugged so tightly he can't breathe. That's what happens when Dori forgives people."

Clearly the star-haired Dwarf had gotten over his shock. Oin gave his shoulder a pat and turned away. He had more important things to be getting on with after all.

* * *

**This is going to last for a while, isn't it? Well, I can assure you I won't be writing about each day they have on the adventure (that would take my whole life, probably). Well, that is a surprise, isn't it? A story of mine with no hugs. I'm sorry I didn't have a scene where Bilbo officially meets Gloin, but when I wrote it, it just would not flow, so I rewrote it into something better. Hope it was enjoyed!**

**On another note, I know I will get certain things wrong, it happens, but can you review the _story_, not my knowledge? Do drop a message if I've gotten something wrong, I want to know if I have, but I'd prefer it if the review button was reserved for the actual story :)**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	3. Calm Before The Storm

It was a very dark night indeed. The amber flickering of the fire did little to ward off the surrounding blackness, yet it helped them see where to lay down their loads in what dim light they had. Gloin kept a watchful eye on Bilbo as he tossed and turned on his bedroll. Bombur was sleeping barely yards from him, and Gloin sympathised greatly, for Bombur rested on his back.

He snored _exactly _like one of Dain's prized boars.

Eventually Bilbo tired of his failed attempts to sleep and stood, stretching his arms high above his head, before padding off to the ponies. Gloin watched him go. He didn't fuss like Dori, but he never felt quite happy when Bilbo was alone with the ponies. The creatures were gentle , but they were bigger than the Halfling and stronger too, he'd wager.

Bilbo was taking something out of his pockets. _'Little rascal!'_ thought Gloin _'taking rations and-'_

Giving it to his pony.

He turned his head away, hiding a smile. What tender-hearted little creatures Shirelings truly were. But still, he realised, they couldn't keep having this, even if it was a nice thought. Resolving to discuss it with him at a later date, he swiftly turned his head back at a sound of high-pitched howling.

"What was that?" Bilbo wanted to know, quickly heading over. Gloin could hardly blame him, in the case of danger, he was definitely best off with them.

"Orcs," Kili said, his face serious.

Gloin looked over at his younger kin, fighting the urge to shake his head at Kili's answer. Perhaps there were dangerous creatures out, he thought, placing his palm on the handle of his ax.

"They strike in the wee, small hours when everyone's asleep," Kili went on. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Bilbo was glancing around, suddenly pale.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" Thorin asked.

Of _course_ the fool had been joking. Gloin really should have known. To his credit, Kili looked repentant, lowering his head and murmuring apologetically to his uncle, who was less than pleased.

The calm tone of Balin's voice interrupted the sudden tense atmosphere. Gloin heard 'Defiler' and 'Moria' and blocked out the sound. He had no wish to be reminded of _that_ part of his life as of this moment. Still, he glanced over at his elder cousin, who stood in the cold light of the moon, remembering his King's bravery.

Everyone was standing, looking over at Thorin. Ori looked as though his eyes were to roll out of his head, his quill dangling, forgotten in his mittened fingers. There were few who hadn't heard of Oakenshield's Battle, but every time the story was told, it garnered the same awed looks.

"-the Pale Orc? What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin snarled. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

And a mighty good riddance, Gloin internally decided.

Everyone went back to their previous positions, the only difference being that Bilbo followed Bofur to where Nori had been casually laying, watching Balin speak.

"I think your dear little brother has been keeping our burglar awake," Nori told Bofur.

"Well, I'm sure Mister Gloin wouldn't be opposed to Bilbo sleepin' by him," Bofur answered cheerily.

One of these days, Gloin was going to take Bofur's hat and beat him over the head with it. It was bad enough he had Oin tossing and turning by his side all night, without adding their equally fidgety Hobbit into the mix.

"Oh, sure! One roll in the wrong direction and we'll be without our burglar." Nori said, giving Bilbo a brief glance.

Bofur's laughing echoed throughout the camp.

* * *

It was Bilbo's own fault for coming so unprepared, Gloin told himself a few weeks later. The weather in the lad's Shire was probably lovely all the time, but that was no excuse.

Fancy going travelling without a cloak, for Mahal's sake.

Still, he looked uncomfortable, sitting on the pony, tiny rivers of rain trickling down his body. His once lively curls were now subdued, sticking to his head, an occasional lock of hair that was determined to keep itself noticed flicking up from the now dark hair on the Hobbit's head.

He looked completely _drowned_.

Nevertheless, he remained silent about it. Probably because it was _warm_, despite the rain's finest efforts to coat them all in its icy torrent.

"'Ere, Mister Gandalf," Dori called out, "can you do something about this deluge?"

_Deluge_. Dori shared a love of using words such as that with his brothers, no matter how strongly Nori protested against the fact.

Gandalf looked back, a hint of a smile on his features before looking forward once more. "'Tis raining, Master Dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done!"

Dori didn't look too happy with that answer. Gloin couldn't blame him. This terrible weather was starting to annoy him as well.

"If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another Wizard!" Gandalf added.

"Are there any?" Bilbo asked, his interest peaked.

"Any what?"

"Other Wizards."

"There are five of us," Gandalf said. Gloin felt most grateful they only had one. If they'd had the Five, he'd no doubt _they _ would bring a Hobbit along, too. "The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards."

"And who is the fifth?" Bilbo questioned. His once dampened expression had brightened considerably with this new conversation.

"That would be Radagast the Brown," Gandalf answered. "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others."

"And is he a great Wizard or is he more like you?"

Gloin snorted, the sound barely covering Oin's sudden wheezes of laughter. Gandalf shot them a brief glance, blue twinkling eyes widened with the pull of a single, tufty eyebrow.

"I think he's a very great Wizard, in his own way."

As Gandalf chattered on about his Wizarding companion, Gloin wondered if he had brought Gimli along, would it be his lad saying funny little quips? By the Maker, Gimli would likely roll his eyes in annoyance if only he knew they'd brought a youngling, younger than himself, along on this quest.

What Gimli didn't know wouldn't hurt him, Gloin decided.

* * *

The days that followed were warm and filled with sunshine once more. It had truly gone from one extreme to the other, Bilbo thought. From gushing icy cold torrents of rain to belting down fierce rays of hot sun. Strange was the weather outside the Shire.

Gloin hmphed when Bilbo told him this. "Hardly what I'd call hot, lad."

"Have you been in hotter places?" Bilbo asked, wide-eyed.

"I've worked with mines and furnaces most my life. You don't know true heat 'til you've stood in front of the roaring, red-hot flames of a furnace."

After that conversation, Bilbo suddenly displayed a colossal interest in the flowers by the path they were taking, asking Oin what they were. Their talk of petals and stems and properties of various plants was about enough to make Gloin die of boredom. Finally, blessedly they stopped, only to lose their Wizard barely minutes later.

Thorin's fault, Gloin didn't doubt. The Hobbit wasn't too happy about their loss, and Gloin caught his sharp, green eyes glancing 'round as if hoping to see the grey-robed male striding towards them only to look away in sorrowful disappointment when he did not. It was like watching a kitten being abandoned and some instinct in his body forced him into asking Bilbo to help him collect the sticks. Again.

The activity brought Bilbo's mind off Gandalf's disappearance which pleased his Dwarven companion.

"D'you think he'll be back soon?"

"Probably," answered Gloin. "Don't worry on it, lad, if anything dangerous comes our way you've got a band of warriors to protect you."

"I don't _need _protecting."

"That's not what you were saying at that spider in your bedroll this morning."

Bilbo gave him his best glare. "You promised to never mention it again!"

Gloin was unable to stop his laughter, only stopping when Bilbo hurled a twig his direction. "Now, then," he said. "There's no need to throw things around."

"There is with you lot!"

Gloin shook his head, unable to fight his laughter any longer. Bilbo watched him chortling, freeing his own laughter. Perhaps, he thought, having a guardian wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**And then the Trolls happen and everything goes to hell. Think Gloin remained angry? Only he seems like Dwalin - tough outside, soft inside. We shall have to see!**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	4. Trollshaw

Bilbo was nervous. Gloin could see that with half an eye, yet most of the other companions barely noticed the way Bilbo's eyebrows knotted or the frequency he darted glances the direction Gandalf had taken barely a few hours before.

"Peace," Gloin murmured. "He shall return before you know it."

"Do you know," said Bilbo in a distracted tone, "that's _precisely_ what my father told my mother last time Gandalf left with no warning?"

"Oh?"

"Yes. Had almost forgotten all about him by the time he eventually returned._ Sixteen years_ later."

Gloin took a breath from his pipe, blowing the strong-smelling smoke through the air as he spoke. "Hmm. I'm certain he'll be here soon enough. Don't panic about him, lad."

"Mmm," Bilbo knocked his own pipe against a tree, scattering spent ashes to the ground. "I'll see if Bofur needs help with anything."

It turned out Bofur did, sending Bilbo into the woods armed with two bowls of stew. Taking his eyes off the shrinking figure in the foreground, he went to accept his own supper from Bombur, surprised at the wonderful flavour once he sampled a spoonful.

"It's not a bad stew, Bombur," Gloin told him, gesturing with his spoon. "I've had worse!"

"Dori could've cooked it!" Nori howled, to the accompanying laughter of their kin.

"Hilarious," Dori said, rolling his eyes at the antics of his younger brother.

Gloin noticed the hidden smile on the elder Dwarf's features and went back to his seat, quietly chuckling. Looking over at the woods Bilbo had disappeared into, he wondered how long it would be until he returned.

* * *

Mahal _above_... This was... This was..

Gloin pushed at his fabricated prison, growling as it did not break. Ceasing his movement, he lay, panting, trying to recall exactly how their capture had occurred.

Bilbo had gone to give Fili and Kili their dinner. He'd not come out, but Fili had. Trolls had been mentioned as well as the sentence, "The Trolls have Bilbo!" A feeling akin to the cold of ice had swept its way through Gloin's body. Weapons had been drawn and they'd followed Fili to the beasts, arriving just in time to witness Kili catching Bilbo in his arms.

And then they'd attacked.

It was a fine and vicious fight. The Trolls were more badly hurt than they were and they could have won had it not been for the fact that the scum had threatened _his _Hobbit.

No, _their _Hobbit.

Either way, Bilbo had been in danger and it had taken several heartbeats for them all to lay down their weapons, though Bilbo had not asked them to.

The fact still remained, however, that they were in an awful situation and if they survived it, Gloin was going to be having words with their burglar.

"You are making a terrible mistake!" Bilbo said, giving the Trolls what Gloin was certain, was a stern look.

"You can't reason with them, they're halfwits!" Dori called over.

"Halfwits? What does that make us?" Bofur asked.

"I, er, meant with the seasoning..."

And Gloin listened in shock and indignation as the Halfling _suggested _recipes for the Trolls to use. To _eat them_. And then he mentioned skinning and Gloin lost his temper completely, telling the Shireling _he _would be the one skinned. Somehow.

There was disagreement between the Trolls and Bilbo. One of them said he preferred Dwarves raw, to which Gloin hid a cringe, before he started hoisting Bombur up by the feet to Bilbo's horror.

"N-not that one, he... he's infected!"

There was a pregnant pause, the silence broken courtesy of one of the Trolls questioning what he'd heard.

"He's got worms.. in his... tubes!"

The lack of confidence in Bilbo's lie made Nori shake his head, Gloin noticed from the corner of his eye. Oh, Mahal. Save them all if Nori taught Bilbo how to lie. They'd never be safe again.

As the Troll unceremoniously dropped Bombur, Bilbo hastily added, "In fact they all have. They're _infested _with parasites..."

As the lad hurried on, Gloin began to feel concerned. Had he knocked his head or something?

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" Oin asked.

"Yes, he- We don't have parasites! _You_ have parasites!" Kili declared.

"What are you talking about, laddie?" Gloin called over, deciding he wanted the answer _before _getting devoured by Trolls.

Without explanation, Thorin gave a not-so-subtle kick, shooting a stare at all he could see, his eyes glancing from Bilbo to his Company, warning them to agree.

Oin started. "I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

As the rest of the Company agreed, one of the Trolls looked highly suspicious before stomping over to Bilbo, glowering fiercely at him.

"I don't believe you," he warned, pointing a thick, scarred digit directly at the Hobbit.

"I'm telling the truth." Bilbo answered. The finger lunged at Bilbo, knocking his shoulder. It must have been painful for he yelped, paling before glancing back towards the Troll. "I have not given lies to you."

The beast probably would have had a lot more to say on the matter had an angry voice not interrupted.

"The Dawn shall take you all!"

* * *

There was not much time to speak with Bilbo. Between Troll hoards, slightly inane Wizards, and the bloodthirsty Orc pack on their trail, Gloin couldn't find the time to discuss it. He stayed close by Bilbo, not wanting to lose him. It wouldn't have mattered to spend a few minutes away, Bofur, Oin and Nori weren't far , but that was well beside the point.

They would _not_ be losing their burglar again.

Now, they were all collected in a type of underground cavern, a narrow tunnel at its back. As they all went through, following each other, he kept the Halfling directly in front at all times. Bilbo was unused to places so hard, with sharp protrusions from the surfaces. He hailed from the gentle earth, not the rough stone they were accustomed to.

He kept touching at his own shoulder, tenderly and regularly. The brute had obviously done some damage to him and Gloin felt like turning back and smashing their stone-turned bodies into smithereens with his ax. He reached to touch it, trying to assess the problem only for Bilbo to pull away.

"You are hurt," he said.

"I'll live." Bilbo answered.

"Hmm. I'll look when we stop, lad."

Bilbo grimaced. "_Excellent, nearly get them all eaten and then get yourself hurt and possibly hinder the journey," _he thought grimly to himself. _"Good job, Bilbo!"_

How angry was the Dwarf? His papa was a one to discuss problems immediately, yet Bilbo hadn't heard a thing from his guardian. It couldn't be that he didn't mind the incident. Yet, he didn't seem angry. He didn't _sound _it and his contact had been astonishingly gentle for one so gruff.

Perhaps it was just the way of Dwarves, he decided. Gazing back up at the winking sunlight through the cracks above them, he wondered, not for the first time, just where they were all headed.

* * *

**Quite short****, but I'll make up for it next chapter :) Seriously, look at the size of the Trolls and look at Bilbo. The Troll who called him a ferret could really have hurt him and he did, actually, so I've incorporated that in here.**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	5. Rivendell

**I think Bilbo went, not just out of Fili and Kili's encouragement, but to prove himself to the Company.**

**Also, Borys raised an interesting point. Gloin was seventeen during the Battle of Ananulbizar. Too young for war, but that scar on his eyebrow didn't come out of nowhere. He got it from _somewhere_. My new headcanon is that Gloin snuck off to participate in the Battle and got a nasty, everlasting slice to his brow, hence the scar. This note is to explain something that Gloin says later on in this chapter :) **

**Just so you all know, I read from a reliable source that a mild sprain takes anything from 1-2 weeks to heal. The Troll who shoved him may not have caused much damage, but remember the way he was held by two of them? I'm sorry, but that would have hurt. I'm surprised they didn't tear him apart accidentally.**

* * *

"'Ere, don't go to the baths just yet, lad. Gloin said your arm was hurting you."

Gloin's eyes were fixed upon them. Looking into Oin's equally black eyes, Bilbo shook his head. "My shoulder."

"I see. Off with your shirt, then, we'll have a look."

It was fortunate none had refused the rooms they'd been offered, for Bilbo would have been horrified at the prospect of stripping off in public, _here_ of all places. Though, his Dwarven companions certainly hadn't minded. He shuddered as he felt his arm move back as Oin poked his shoulder.

"How badly did it hurt when it happened?" Oin asked.

"It hurt a lot, but I think its alright now-"

Oin wasn't convinced. "I'm going to try something, and it might hurt. Keep still."

Bilbo jerked away as the healer slowly pulled at his shoulder, grimacing at the jarring pain from the sudden movement. "What are you doing?"

Finished with his assessment, Oin released him. "You'll be fine soon enough. A sprain, not any call for amputation as my brother feared."

"Feared?" Bilbo repeated. "Gloin doesn't fear anything!"

Oin exchanged a knowing look with his brother, shaking his head. "Hmm. Be off with the pair of you, then. You," he pointed at Bilbo. "Don't strain yourself. No running after anyone. Do _not _ aggravate that shoulder!"

* * *

Gloin feared a lot of things. He'd been deathly afraid during his wife's pregnancy. He'd been afraid during the birth of his son. He'd been truly terrified when Gimli had discovered his ax and started running about with it. He'd been scared during his first battle, which had happened long before he'd even thought of having a family. He hadn't been fearful of anything to do with the quest, confident in his abilities, confident with all the people he travelled with.. right up until they met the Trolls and it became clear that it would be very, _very _ easy for Bilbo to die.

And that thought frightened him beyond words.

He glanced over, watching as the Halfing quickly dunked himself under the water, coming up , shaking his head so wet curls sprung diamond-like droplets of water everywhere. At that moment, it hit the Dwarrow just how soft and... fragile the younger being was. He'd likely never been in such a danger before and, though it wasn't his fault, the redhead felt a twinge of guilt that the lad been dragged along on this venture. Recalling the events of last night reminded Gloin of the questions he had to ask, and so he began;

"What happened?"

Bilbo started. He'd not expected him to speak in the quiet of the room. "I'm sorry?"

"What happened," Gloin repeated, "that ended with you alone with three Trolls?"

Bilbo supposed that saying, 'nothing!' really wasn't an option. "I- we were trying to get them back."

"By yourself?"

"I didn't think I'd get caught." Bilbo murmured.

"You should _always_ expect the unexpected!" Gloin chided. "T'is only fortunate, you're not _badly_ hurt! What made you go over there?" He had a suspicion what, or rather _who_, had made Bilbo face them, but he wanted confirmation before he tore the heads off people.

Bilbo frowned, thinking. "I know what it is you believe," he said at last. "But they're not the whole reason."

As he fell once more into silence, Gloin started thinking. He thought of memories of going away to battle, though the age was too young, all in order to impress kin and retake a lost kingdom. "Am I right," he asked, "in guessin' you went to the Trolls to prove your... capabilities?"

He'd really have to thank Dori for teaching him that word. It seemed to sum everything up perfectly if the astonished look in the Shireling's eyes was anything to go by.

"Yes," Bilbo admitted, looking downwards. He found himself unable to look into the depths of the black eyes that had been looking into his own.

Gloin tutted. "By the Maker. No one of us could have taken them back. You should have left them where they were, whacked those idiots over the head, and come back to tell us what was happening."

Bilbo's eyes were woeful. "I'm sorry. I never meant for all that to happen."

"-Never been so embarrassed in all my life!"

Gloin rolled his eyes as the annoyed voices of the Ri clan came closer to the building. "They sound happy." He gave Bilbo an affectionate smile, and moved back through the water, leading Bilbo with him.

"What is it? Why are we moving?"

"You'll know soon enough," Gloin answered.

"'ang on a minute. _Kili _ did it too!"

"_You _ are _not _ Kili, Nori!" Dori raged on.

Bilbo heard the doors open and the argument became more clear. Gloin lightly nudged him, handing a vial of some sweetly-scented oil.

"Wash your hair while you listen to the latest entertainment."

He did so, watching as the two arguing Dwarrows, their younger brother trailing behind fighting a grin.

"It's rude and so humiliating! I thought I brought you up better than that, Nori!"

"What's the matter?"

"All I did," Nori said before Dori could say anything, "was greet one of our hosts."

"You didn't _greet_ him, you _chased_ him! _And _ you were naked."

Nori lifted his chin. "Thorin approved," he said pointedly. "Anyway, he," he pointed at his elder brother, "wasn't having any of it. Bad luck for the Elf, eh?"

Bilbo attempted to hide a laugh. "Did you really, Nori?"

"He did," Dori muttered, shooting his brother a dark look. "Thorin was no help at all. He _cheered_, can you believe..."

Gloin didn't bother hiding his approval of the story. "I wish I'd seen that!"

"I wish I _hadn't_!" Dori said.

Nori's eyes narrowed. "Allow me to wash away that memory then!" he declared before shoving at his elder sibling with all his might. He roared with laughter as his attack succeeded, joy shining in his olive green eyes.

"You brat!" Dori gasped as he came up for air. With a surprisingly fast movement, he snatched hold of Nori's ankle, grinning at his revenge.

"Dori, my hair!"

"Well, it serves you- No! Not my beard! NORI!"

As his brothers squabbled, Ori made his way to Gloin and Bilbo, shedding his layers and quickly entering. "Oh, this is nice."

"Thought the fountains might not have enough room," Gloin said.

"Master Balin says we'll have to go soon. Elf Lord wants us to have dinner with him."

Gloin snorted. "Oh, brilliant. What fun that will be."

Ori shrugged. "It could be."

Frankly, Gloin thought as he watched Nori and Dori tussle, this would probably end up being the most enjoyable part of his day.

* * *

Bilbo's shoulder was hurting again. A long, pinching ache that had him moving this way and that in his bed. The sheets got tangled around his legs and he sat up, hissing at the shooting pain through his shoulder. He threw back the sheets and lay back.

Brilliant. Now the pillows felt as though they were made of stone.

He heard a scraping sound. Turning his head, his sore eyes flinched at a flare of warm, strong light.

"Can't you sleep?" Gloin asked tiredly.

"It's uncomfortable," he admitted. "I'll be used to it soon. Sorry for waking you."

"In truth, I wasn't sleeping," Gloin told him. "So, don't worry yourself. Are you in pain?"

"It aches."

"Sleep on your back," Oin mumbled.

"I've tried, but-"

"Alright, alright," Gloin interrupted, abandoning his own bed. "I'm used to this sort of thing..."

"Over a hundred years of being an older brother and over sixty of being an uncle, and I'm not," Oin muttered. "We'll see, now , whether you're truly used to this sort of thing."

Bilbo heard the grumbled words of, "unfaithful old devil!" as Gloin made his way over. "Are you on your back or side?"

"My side."

"Turn over, lying on your side only makes things worse, you know."

Doing so, Bilbo made out the glinting light thrown off Gloin's hair beads. "You sound like you've experience."

Gloin nodded. "You could say that, aye."

Oin muttered something about trees and foolhardy Dwarflings.

"Why did you kick your blanket off for?" Gloin asked, throwing it back over Bilbo. "Keep it on, otherwise you'll shiver all night and _he _ won't be happy if you bugger up that sprain any further."

"It clicks when I move it."

"Well, don't move it then!"

"Now, then," Oin said reproachfully. "Don't go losing your patience. _You _used to charge about the place even with broken _bones_, if I recall right."

"You're _not_ helping."

"I'm not here to help."

"No, you're here to be a pain in the- are you comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you." Bilbo moved his aching joint, wincing at the click.

"What did I tell you about- Brother, what is so amusing to you?"

"Nothing," Oin answered and Gloin was just certain his brother was positively beaming with mirth at their predicament.

Gathering up the last of his patience, Gloin looked back down at Bilbo. "Sleep well. See you in the morning."

Murmuring the same back, Bilbo closed his eyes, only to open them again at a yelp of 'Gloin!' and a very false-sounding apology. Smiling as he closed his eyes again, he wondered if the pain would be gone by tomorrow.

* * *

**Oooh, people _like_ this! This is going surprisingly well :) I thank you all for you support and hope this chapter is good enough for you.**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	6. Aim and Release

Bilbo wondered how he'd gotten himself into this situation. He really should never have wandered off from Gloin. Had he known this would end up happening, two blue-eyed, dark-haired, innocent-looking (though he knew they were anything but that!) Elf twins trying to teach him about bows, he never would have gone.

"Have you ever held a bow before?"

Looking up at the mischievous, identical faces of the Elven twins, Bilbo shook his head. "No, I haven't."

As if by magic (or perhaps because of those billowing, silky sleeves) one of the twins produced a bow. It was huge, perhaps even larger than the little Hobbit gawking at it, and was made of a smooth wood, a fine string stretched out, shining in the sun.

"Hold it," the Elf said, "like this, yes, that's - no, more grip... perfect!"

The other Elf handed him an arrow. He and his brother looked positively overjoyed with themselves and Bilbo started feeling suspicious.

"What are you planning?"

"Planning? Nothing!"

"You just look like a little, light-haired version of Estel, our brother," the one who had given the bow proclaimed. "He looks overwhelmed when he holds a bow too!"

"To you, Elladan, every child looks like Estel," one of the twins sighed. "_Perian_, hold the arrow to the string, and when you feel the weapon straining, turn and release the arrow."

"Why?"

"We want to see if you can reach the target." Elladan said.

"What target?"

"The one we picked out."

Bilbo did as instructed, hoping he wouldn't end up breaking a statue or anything similar. The Dwarves would likely find it amusing if he did, but he rather thought Lord Elrond would think differently. He turned, released the arrow and gasped.

It wasn't heading towards a statue. It was aiming itself to Bofur's head. The twins had probably thought it would be a funny thing indeed to shoot an arrow through the Dwarf's hat, but Bilbo knew exactly what kind of wrath would descend upon his curly head for shooting at it, by accident or not.

Elladan looked most distressed at the stream of curse words from the Dwarrow. "Oh, dear."

"I can't believe you! I travel with him, and I like him, why did you let me do that?"

"Thought it'd be funny," Elladan's brother murmured, ducking down and pulling his sibling with him. "Come, quickly, before he finds out it was us!"

"I don't think he saw you," Elladan whispered. "Give me the bow and run along. We'll see you later."

* * *

Bilbo had never thought Elves to be carefree creatures with quick laughter and mischievous ways. They'd always seemed noble, solemn people of beauty and wisdom. Elladan and his brother were beautiful, but they had about the same amount of wisdom as Fili and Kili did, he thought as he silently stole along to where he'd last seen his Dwarven company. Despite everything, he rather liked them and hoped he would see them again before leaving Rivendell.

"Unbelievable," Dori grumbled as he stitched the hole in Bofur's hat. "Unbe-bloody-lievable. I bet it was some immature Elfling poncing around with his father's bow."

"Well, we know it wasn't an attack, at least. We'd all be dead, if it was." Oin said reasonably.

By Bilbo's side, Gloin touched his elbow. "Let's look for some wood, lad. It's getting darker."

* * *

"Was the bow heavy on your shoulder?"

Bilbo stared at Gloin. "I'm sorry?"

"You came back behind Bofur looking so wretched, I thought he was going to go on a wild tangent on what happened," Gloin said mildly. "I knew at once that you had something to do with it, though he, it seems, doesn't."

"I- I didn't mean to. They came up, and-"

"Who's they?"

"Elladan and Elrohir. They started talking about bows and.. I didn't know Bofur was in the area."

"You should never shoot at anything unless you know what it is and why you're shooting it." Gloin told him. He took hold of Bilbo's shoulders, making eye contact. "If Bofur hadn't his hat on, what would have happened?"

Bilbo shuddered, but Gloin clearly expected an answer. "He...well, the arrow... It would have hurt him."

It would have done a lot more than hurt him, but it had been difficult for the Shireling to say what he had, so Gloin let it go. "Yes, it would." he moved a hand to cup Bilbo's head, disliking the intense sorrow on his features. "You should never have let them place it into your hands. If it hadn't worked so well, what if the arrow had shifted, gone straight up and then fallen down? You could have been hurt!"

"And Elladan and Elrohir?"

"I don't care about Elladan and Elrohir. I care about you, you idiot."

Bilbo blinked and Gloin wondered when he'd last been told anything like that. Certainly, he looked most astonished at the words.

"...Oh."

Bilbo still looked surprised by the revelation and uncertainly gazed down. Gloin removed his contact, and began to move away. He never had been able to deal with moments such as this and didn't have the first clue how to deal with it now. Soft footsteps and a light bump against his side made him look over, smiling slightly.

The feeling was mutual, then.

* * *

They weren't allowed wood, an Elf spouting rubbish about 'sacred trees', so they wandered 'round 'til they discovered a wooden table supporting a cloth and a vase which was removed before the table was lifted and carried back to camp.

"That looks like no log I've ever seen!" Bofur howled, his upset forgotten.

"They wouldn't let us have any wood!" Gloin called back.

"Ah, well." Bofur looked as though he was thinking up a particularly filthy joke. "You wouldn't want an Elf's _wood _ anyway, if you get my meaning..."

The evening passed into a dark night swiftly. Stars dotted against the sky, tendrils of smoke dancing and twisting on the breeze and Oin borrowed Bofur's flute and played a song on it.

"Hey, he likes _blowing_ your flute, Bofur!" Nori cackled, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

"Don't say that, you dirty..."

Oin finished his piece and rolled his eyes at the two younger Dwarves. "How you two ended up with such polite wee brothers, I may never know." He stood, handing the flute back to its owner. "Though, I did know, the minutes you were born, that you'd be nowt but trouble!"

"_What_?"

"Who, us?" Bofur asked.

Bilbo's eyes felt heavy, but he wished to hear the rest of the brewing conversation between Oin, Nori and Bofur, so he leaned against Gloin and tried to look awake. Gloin chuckled.

"You're going to be out of it, soon."

"Mm. Not yet."

"You sound just like my lad," Gloin said, standing and helping Bilbo to his feet. "He's stubborn too."

"Just like you, I suppose." Bilbo yawned.

Gloin tsked, though he couldn't hide a smile. "Where did you get that thought from?"

* * *

**Gloin's awesome and a must be a really great parent ( I mean, look at Gimli!) but it does seem weird to talk about him smiling. I've never seen it, though at the end of AUJ, he likely did. Character interpretation, right? Gimli was spirited and laughed a fair few times in LOTR, so I'm likening Gloin to Gimli a lot.**

**My Lord, this was disgustingly sweet. I'm proud, though, went better than I originally thought it would go!**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	7. Leaving Paradise

"Don't you dare bugger your shoulder up again."

"Yes, Óin."

"I shall be annoyed if you do."

"I'll be careful, I promise."

"Hmm." Óin gave Bilbo's shoulder a last, experimental touch. "Alright, then. Be off with you."

As Bilbo headed away, Glóin snorted to hear his lad mutter something about a "mother hen". Hopefully, nothing untoward would occur. Óin wouldn't be the only one unhappy if Bilbo managed to get himself hurt again.

* * *

As he rounded a corner, Bilbo almost jumped to hear the somewhat familiar sound of the Dwarven language. Turning, he smiled when he saw who'd spoken.

"Hullo, Bifur."

The Dwarf nodded in greeting and showed him his palm. In it lay a fuzzy caterpillar and he seemed fascinated with it, poking and pointing at the little creature who Bilbo thought was likely confused by the goings-on that had befallen him.

"That's a caterpillar."

Bifur looked down at the tiny animal. He then took Bilbo's hand, carefully placing his discovery inside the smaller hand of the Company's burglar. Linking his own thumbs together, he made his hands slowly wave, creating a butterfly illusion.

"Yes. He'll grow into a butterfly. Or a moth."

Bifur was looking expectantly at him. Bilbo studied the caterpillar with his orange-and-black striped fuzz, and then looked back at the Dwarrow. "You know, I think he may be a butterfly."

Bifur seemed happy with this answer and cupped his hands, placing them close to Bilbo's.

"Have you never seen a caterpillar before?"

Bifur nodded and then pointed at the one he now held before shaking his head.

"Just this one, you've never seen?"

Bifur nodded. He closed his hand over the little insect and lightly nudged Bilbo off, silently requesting the hobbit join him wherever he was going.

They ended back with the Company. Bifur headed straight to Óin, stopping only to tug on one of his cousin's braids.

"What's that, Bif?" Bombur asked as his cousin passed.

"A caterpillar." Bilbo answered as Bifur seemed to have not heard his cousin's question.

Óin groaned. "Not another of your blasted pets!"

Bifur smiled enthusiastically and made the healer have a look at his new treasure.

Bombur laughed quietly. "He loves animals. Always has."

"He's very gentle with the caterpillar. It'd be dead if Glóin held it, I'm sure."

Bombur burst out in heavy chuckles. "I'm not sure he'd agree! You're right, though. Our Bif is mighty gentle."

Looking over at where Bifur was trying, and mostly failing, to make Óin hold the tiny insect, Bilbo had to agree.

* * *

"Bilbo? Wake up, my lad. It's time to head on."

"Mm. Glóin?"

"Aye, I'm here. Up now."

Tiredly, Bilbo obeyed, though his vision swum. Why had he stayed out so late with Elladan and Elrohir?  
Glóin's hands wrapped themselves around his arms, helping him off the bed. Bilbo was so dozy, he staggered and his legs wobbled, and he would've wound up on the floor had Glóin not had the presence of mind to continue holding him.

"I can stand now, thank you. Where are we going?"

"The Mountains," answered Glóin, throwing Bilbo his clothes. "Hurry and get dressed, lad."

Bilbo did, though he still had questions. "Why so early?"

"Gandalf is keeping the Elves busy. We don't have much time. You ready?"

"Yes," Bilbo said, securing his last waistcoat button.

" , put your jacket on. Óin'd kill both of us if you went without. It's a tad cold out there."

Once the comforting weight of his jacket was covering his shoulders, Glóin handed him his pack and whispered to him to keep as silent as he was able. Together, they stole out of their room, meeting several other members along the way.

At the end of the day, there was a general collapse. Thorin rolled his eyes, yet allowed them their rest, for they'd been walking since the early hours and he knew they would be up soon enough.  
He sat by his nephews. Kíli made an effort to move, leaning against his uncle's shoulder, his elder brother deciding to follow suit.

In fact, around the camp, everyone was using their kin as something to lean upon as they regained their strength. Thorin smiled softly and tucked an arm 'round his sister-sons.

"Brother, how is the lad faring? He looked so exhausted, I feared he would fall to the ground and never get up again!"

"I'm right here and I'm well, thank you." Bilbo mumbled from where he half-lay at Glóin's side.

Óin didn't look very convinced and Glóin glanced over at Bilbo to appease his brother.

"Just tired, like all of us."

Thorin was trying to rouse his nephews. "We'll set up now. Fíli, please let go. You too, Kíli."

Glóin lightly pushed Bilbo who was leaning on his shoulder. "Come on. Sooner we rise, sooner we can eat and retire to our bedrolls."

"What's for dinner tonight?" Kíli asked.

"It'll be _you_, if you don't get off your arses." Bofur said, standing and helping Bifur to his feet.

"Bofur!" Thorin reprimanded. Then he looked at his nephews. "He is right, however. If you get up, you won't go into the stew pot."

"You treat us like beardlings." Kíli muttered, throwing his calm-faced uncle a baleful look.

"Hmm." Thorin ruffled his hair. "Are you too tired to scout the area?"

"Right, let's see if there's any branches worth collecting." Glóin said.

Óin smiled to himself as Glóin led Bilbo off. To think his brother had had qualms about his parenting skills, once upon a time before Gimli was born.

To bad their old Da was no longer around to see it.

* * *

"What hijinks did those two devils get up with you last night?"

"They were telling me of Dwarves, actually."

Glóin wondered what horrors the two pointy-eared princelings had told the Hobbit. "Oh, yes? What did they have to say?"

Bilbo grinned. "They said you have skin as hard as your heads."

Glóin furrowed his eyebrows at him. "I don't suppose you _laughed_, did you?"

"I would never." Bilbo replied, though Glóin spied a little spark in his eyes.

"You can't trust a creature with pointed ears to not be mischievous," Glóin light-heartedly grumbled. "Fetch up that stick by there, would you?"

"Elladan and Elrohir were alright," Bilbo said, adding the stick to his pile. "Though, I think Lord Elrond and Thorin would have had their hands full if they met Fili and Kili."

Glóin chortled softly. "T'was only because of Thorin they didn't plan any mischief together."

"Why not?"

"Can you imagine he'd want his sister-sons fraternizing with Elves?"

"I'd forgotten your strange dislike of the Elves."

"It's not strange at all, _pundurith."_

The name had slipped out without Glóin's consent, however he was grateful for its appearance as the word had riled up Bilbo's curiosity, saving them from arguing over the pros and cons of friendships with Elvenfolk.

"What's a _pundurith_?"

Maintaining as innocent an outlook as he was able, Glóin lifted another branch and tugged Bilbo's arm, gesturing him back to camp. "That's for you to find out yourself."

* * *

**So, I had a little peek at the amount of follows of the story and nearly died on the spot. So many people enjoy this and I'm humbled! Thank you for your support in this!**

**You will all find out soon what a _pundurith _is. If you do know what a _pundurith _ is, please keep it a secret to yourself. **

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	8. Ascension and Descension

Hobbits, Glóin decided, truly weren't built for mountainous climbs. The near vertical climb up the mountain face was not easy, even for them, Óri nearly skidding downhill once or twice, Balin needing to stop and breathe every couple of hours and their burglar struggled worse than they did, though he bore the sharp terrain well despite his bare feet.

Fortunately, this mountain would not take long to scale. If they kept their pace going, they would be at their desired path by sunset.  
Looking back, Glóin saw that their hobbit looked dead on his feet. He was gasping for air and Glóin knew he needed to rest, so stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Take some time to breath, _pundurith_."

Bilbo did, though he looked no less exhausted, he clearly felt better for his stop. "How much further?"

"Just a few hours."

Bilbo managed a smile. "You said that a few hours ago."

Glóin shook his head, smiling back at him. "Well, it weren't a lie, my lad."

Bilbo allowed himself to lean into Glóin for several moments. "Thank you."

"Don't worry on't."

"Burglar, hurry up!" Thorin snarled from where he waited before them.

Glancing towards his cousin he narrowed his eyes at the icy stare headed Bilbo's way. The hobbit didn't appear to notice, yet Glóin saw.

And he didn't like it.

* * *

The top of the mountain had a narrow, yet reasonably flat surface before it sloped downwards again. There was no wood to be seen, which was a shame, but at least they'd had the foresight to collect as much as they could before making their ascent upwards.

"Why don't you use matches?" Bilbo asked, watching in fascination as Glóin attempted to make sparks fly.

"Matches get wet. Also, once you learn the skill you never want to lose it."

Bilbo watched gravely before looking at Glóin. "Are you certain you ever had the skill?"

Glóin scowled at him. "You cheeky little devil! No, don't you dare laugh, or so help me, I'll.."

"Set me aflame?"

Glóin muttered darkly before looking triumphantly at Bilbo when his tinderbox finally did its job. "Looks like that's a possibility now!"

Bilbo laughed. "I was wrong, it seems. Forgive me for doubting your fire-making skills."

"I do," Glóin assured. "Though I'll lob you off this mountain if you suggest such a thing again!"

* * *

The mountain offered a beautiful view of the stars, but the clear night was very cold. They slept close to the slowly flickering fire, one or two sleeping curled up with a brother (or cousin).  
Glóin had Bilbo sleeping between him and Óin, a thing the hobbit was glad he'd been glared into doing. The brothers offered protection against the occasional, bitter breezes and due to their uncanny knowledge of just about everything he was thinking, they'd swiftly discovered he was shivering and placed their heavy cloaks over the blankets strewn over them already.  
He was strongly reminded of camping trips with his parents. Óin breathed softly in sleep as Bungo Baggins once had and Glóin was as easily concerned as Belladonna Baggins had been, though he hid it better than she had. Not much better, however, if the heavy Dwarven arm over his chest was anything to go by.

He really had to remember to tease him about it in the morning.

He turned over, facing Óin. Strange was it, he thought, how all the Took clan had boisterous, rich accents and he'd wound up with a guardian - and his brother - who had the same accent that had told him incredible stories as a fauntling.  
He'd loved his family, Tooks and Baggins, but he'd been too much of the other to truly belong with either clan.

Did Dwarves have that problem? Feeling outcast because they weren't really accepted in families because they resembled one parent too much?

Probably not, he realised. Take the brothers Ri for an example. Nori was as different from his brothers as he could possibly be, yet they adored him and he adored them.

_They were all different to each other_, he thought, _yet their family don't mind it_.

Why couldn't his own family be the same?

* * *

It was like walking in the clouds, Bilbo thought. The Mountains were so tall and the mist so thick, it was truly as though they could have touched the sky. However, the height of the Mountains terrified the life out of Bilbo and when they descended down a thin trail to a new path lower down the Mountains, he gripped tightly onto Glóin's shoulders and silently prayed to any Valar listening that he wouldn't die.

"Come now, it's sturdy and strong. You will not fall, that's right, keep to the rock..."

Thorin's eyes were nearly slits. "Have you never climbed a hill before?"

"Funny enough, hills are slightly different to mountains," Bilbo retorted, loosening his hold on Glóin's shoulders and moving faster now that the surface was more or less flat.

"No harm done," Glóin said. "At least it isn't raining!"

He regretted those words several days later.

* * *

There was a storm raging on the Misty Mountains. The path they walked upon shook in the rain, the wind and the hale that roared down upon them and Glóin made certain that Bilbo stayed directly in front of him where he could keep an eye on him while keeping a hand on his shoulder to ensure his charge didn't fall from the increasingly slippery, sodden pathway. The Hobbit didn't enjoy the trek much either and kept a small hand firmly closed over Glóin's larger one.

They had been taking this direction for over three weeks. Before the Mountains, the weather hadn't been too bad to begin with and there had been woodlands and streams to catch food from as well as collect wood and sweet, clean water for their journey, but the warmth was long gone as was the dryness. There were small caverns in the Mountain's walls and they burrowed in them at nights, keeping close for warmth.

That was the other thing.

Glóin and Óin loved each other dearly, but they were not and had _never _been as.. close as say Fíli and Kíli were in their sleep. Or Bifur and his cousins. Or Óri and his brothers. They liked their own space and bickered fiercely if the other went too close, so as a rule they kept a minimum of two inches apart if the weather was cold.

That was no longer an option.

To begin with, Bilbo hadn't liked the idea of _snuggling_ with people at night, claiming that it was 'childish', until Glóin had folded his arms and glared at him with such ferocity, Bilbo had agreed.

Their burglar got very, very cold. So cold, he threw any caution he had to the considerable wind and curled up as close as he could to whomever he deemed warmest. And it was _always_ Glóin. The Dwarf blamed his impressively thick hair. Óin blamed his impressively thick waist. Glóin knew it was his hair. Why? He was awoken once in the early hours by Bilbo inadvertently yanking on it.

The first time it happened, he considered waking the burglar up and demanding to know just what he thought he was playing at. Then he remembered that Hobbits didn't seem to care for hair as much as Dwarves did. Upon recalling this, he freed his beard, took hold of Bilbo's small, cold hands in his big, warm ones and went back to sleep, vowing to teach Bilbo about Dwarven hair customs.

He was awoken early by Bilbo exhaling, sounding louder than it truly was in the pre-dawn air. He nestled closer and, out of instinct, Glóin wrapped his arms around the smaller body, much to Bilbo's surprise.

"Did I wake you?" Bilbo asked.

"No. Well, yes, but that's alright."

Bilbo hid a yawn. "You look more serious than normal."

"No wonder, you little imp!" Glóin growled, though with no real heat. "Must you always pull on people's beards?" he grumbled, the effect of anger ruined by the fact he was absent-mindedly stroking Bilbo's back. "It's terrible manners, young hobbit."

"I did not mean to," Bilbo whispered. "Is it really so terrible?"

"Yes, though I knew you never intended to do it." Glóin paused, shifting Bilbo in his arms. "You see, beards are important in our culture. They're our pride, for they show how honourable we are."

"By pulling on it. What does it mean?"

"Well, usually it means you're trying to take honour off someone."

Bilbo gasped softly. "I'm sorry! I never meant-"

"I know, I know. Besides, your pulling is nowhere near strong enough to take it off!"

"Not a challenge, is it?"

Gloin was silent and Bilbo feared he'd insulted him. To his relief, the Dwarf chuckled, lowly and indulgently. "Little devil. Go back to sleep now."

* * *

Bofur seemed to be in 'hogging-a-halfling' mode the following day. Either that or he was more protective than the sons of Gróin had bargained for. Still, the fact remained that Bilbo was in safe hands, though Glóin couldn't help but miss his charge.

The day darkened along with his princely companion's mood. Lightning streaked and thunder crashed. The wind howled with the pitch of angry wolves and Glóin hoped Bofur hadn't taken it upon himself to tell one of his terrifying stories to Bilbo, for that would be no help at all.

Thorin stopped, nearly losing his balance. "Hold on!"

There was a sudden loud smash of stone hitting stone and Glóin heard Bilbo yell and turned his head sharply. He could just make out Óin moving towards where Bofur's hat shook in the fierce wind.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin called.

Glóin heartily agreed. The sooner they found a cave, preferably dry, the sooner he could get Bilbo to safety and warmth.

Stone began raining upon them and Glóin heard Bofur murmur something before sending up the panicked shout of, "Giants! Stone Giants!"

Thinking of his _pundurith _alone on a ledge, the creatures of rock hurling their boulders around, Glóin felt his heart freeze.

_Just how in Mahal's name were they going to get out of this one?_


	9. The Midst of Stone

They were unfortunate enough to be standing right upon the very knees of a Stone Giant. Very unfortunate and their luck seemed to have changed when they were suddenly swung to the side of the ledge they needed to get on.

Then it turned out only half of them had escaped. Most of the others were still on the Giant's knees. If it hadn't been for Óin's careful grip on his shoulder, Glóin would have tried to stand on the very edge of the precipice, for hope of reaching Bilbo.

The Giant stumbled and crashed away from them, though their luck had changed for the better and they were on their side of the Mountain.

But did they still live?

'Round the twisting path they ran, calling desperately for their loved ones. Glóin halted as Thorin suddenly ceased his running. His King slumped and Glóin saw that there were the other half of their Company.

Alive.

"They're alive!" Glóin called, more for Óin's benefit than anyone else. He moved on, searching for a head of short curls, but only saw the long, sleek locks of Dwarves. Frowning, he turned 'round only to see the entire group huddling over the edge of the Mountain. He gaped, horrified.

"_No," _Glóin thought, _"Please don't let my lad be hanging for his life. Please don't let it be him. Not my little _pundurith_..."_

He could hear them calling Bilbo's name and could hardly breathe. This was worse than the time Gimli went into that mine shaft without his knowledge. This was pure terror.

He ran over, only to hear a collective cry of horror from the Company that did nothing to ease his fright. Thorin crouched down and jumped, holding onto the very edge.

Glóin near collapsed when he saw Bilbo coming back up. There was more fear in those green eyes than Glóin had ever seen him wear. The wind was whistling again, an awful high-pitched sound that drowned out any further sound before it could reach Glóin's ears. He saw Thorin getting helped back up, he saw his lips move and he saw Bilbo slump, looking so wounded that Glóin felt like demanding to know exactly what Thorin had said where they were, but Dwalin was pulling Thorin, pointing to the Mountain wall.

He straightened up. At the very least, they'd finally found shelter.

He went to help Bilbo up, deciding to ask what had been exchanged between him and Thorin once they were out of the storm. Bilbo all but collapsed against him. Gloin gently patted his shoulder.

"Come on, my lad. Let's get out of the rain."

* * *

The cave was good-sized and mercifully dry. Cool, sandy earth covered the ground and Glóin pointed Bilbo to a place in the cave where he could wait for him while he got the sticks out.

"Right! Let's get a fire started..."

"No. No fires," Thorin said. "Not in this place."

Bit of a shame, especially as their youngest looked as though they could do with the warmth, but Glóin supposed it was for the best. There could be terrible creatures living in the Mountains.

Gathering the sticks back up, he headed towards Bilbo, placing them on the ground. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

Glóin knew perfectly well that that was not true, and lightly tipped up Bilbo's chin. "Tell me, _pundurith_. What's hurting you?"

That had an effect. His eyes started to shine, brightened by unreleased tears and he turned his head. "I don't want to talk."

Glóin really would have pushed the matter further, but it seemed there was a limit that Bilbo was fast reaching and he decided not to ask any further. _Someone_ had to know what was bothering Bilbo so much.

"Alright, laddie. Sit down, I've a towel somewhere."

"Where did you get it?" Bilbo asked, looking up as he knelt.

"Gift from Nori. Shame I'll have to turn his attempts of a blooming romance down, eh?"

The corners of Bilbo's mouth flickered upwards.

_"Where has all the __banter gone?" _Glóin wondered as he wrapped the towel 'round Bilbo's curls. "_And_ _he's_ _not even fighting being helped with things! What on Earth happened to him?"_

He was just so _hurt_. He didn't seem to know what was going on either and Glóin felt another slice of fear for him. He would have liked to start up the conversation again, but that, he knew, would make things worse. He tousled his curls and went to see what dinner they had for that night, shaking his head slightly when he saw it was cram.

Bringing back some of the food, he tilted his head in surprise to see that Bilbo was curled on his side, facing away from them.

Asleep already? Now, that was strange.

"Bilbo? Lad, wake up-"

"Why do you bother, Glóin?"

* * *

He turned. Thorin's eyes were curious, fixed on his. "What d'you mean 'why do you bother'?"

"With him. He's no use to any of us. Should have rode faster from his little village."

"_You_ said something to him. What was it?"

"I said nothing untrue."

"Thorin..."

"He doesn't belong with Dwarves. He belongs with his own kind."

"Did you tell him he's not one of us? After what he's come through with us?"

"He didn't see the fall of Erebor with us!"

"He's here _now_, with us! He wants to help us, Thorin!"

"We don't need his help! We're better off leaving him in these Mountains than-"

Glóin had had enough. Snatching up his ax, he pointed it toward Thorin. "Don't you _dare_ say that!"

Thorin wasn't afraid of the ax, perhaps knowing that no matter how angry his cousin was, he was safe from the possibility of the weapon being buried in his neck. Nonetheless, Dwalin was by his side in an instant.

"Do you care for him?"

"Aye. Like he were my own kin."

To his credit, Thorin didn't look at him condescendingly, though he lowered his voice. "Glóin, once we reclaim Erebor, where do you think he'll go? Stay with you, Lady Neoma and young Gimli? He won't. He may be a child to us, and he's certainly no old Hobbit, but he is no child Hobbit either. He can never be your son."

Glóin raised an eyebrow at Thorin. "You think I don't already know that? Of course I know he'll likely go back to his Shire!"

"Likely?" Now Thorin raised a brow. "He'll be tearing away soon as he can, cousin."

"You have a disturbing mistrust of that lad." Glóin muttered, lowering his ax. "You need to apologise to him."

"What?"

"You've hurt him, Thorin. If someone hurt Fíli or Kíli you'd have their heads off their shoulders."

The unspoken promise that Thorin would be the one finding his head no longer attached to his body hung heavy in the air.

"He's not yours to care for like this. Ensure he's safe. That's all."

Glóin ignored his cousin's last words. Instead, he lay on his bedroll and closed his eyes.

* * *

Sleep did not come to Bilbo that night. He had heard Glóin talking to Thorin and curled up tighter.  
He didn't know what else to do about Thorin. The Dwarf seemed to care so little and think even less of his burglar.  
Glóin, however...

He slowly sat up, careful to not awaken his Dwarven guardian.

'He can never be your son.'

That made no sense. Glóin had a son already and Bilbo had parents... Once. Then the Fell Winter happened.

He shivered and reached for his sword, touching its cover, following its lines as they wove around the leather.

Dwarves and Hobbits didn't mix. They were like onions and apples, similar size, but different in far too many ways.

His guardian had probably just been trying to make Thorin feel guilty.  
How could he be anything like kin to a Dwarf?

He silently crept off his bedroll. They didn't need him. Glóin wouldn't miss him. He was quiet as he secured his bedroll to his pack and lifted his walking stick from where it lay on the ground before moving onwards.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Ah, Bofur. He'd forgotten that the hatted Dwarf was on watch.

"Back to Rivendell." Stone Giants be cursed. Better to face them than Thorin.

"No,no,no no. You mustn't do that." Bofur told him pleadingly.

Poor Bofur looked stricken at the very notion. "I'm no use here, Bofur. Thorin was right..."

"Thorin's never right! You have to stay with us. Glóin would go crazy if he lost you."

"Why, though? What's he got to lose if I go?"

"Well, he cares for you. You know he does."

Bilbo must have looked unsure, for Bofur 'hmmed' as though he knew something.

"Here, when a Dwarf says something, he means it. When Glóin said - yes, I know what he said! - that you are like his own kin, he meant just that."

"But he's.."

"Aye, you're different. So are all of us, but we love each other anyway."

"I know."

Bofur's eyes twinkled. "There you are, then! Go on, get to sleep or he'll be after you in t'morning."

Bilbo smiled and turned back, feeling cheered. If Bofur was right, then he had at least been fortunate with his informal adoption.

As he knelt, a ray of blue light shone from the hilt of his sword. Trembling, he took out his dagger, paling at its ethereal blue light.

_'It's of Elven make, which means it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby.'_

They were in serious danger. Bilbo leaned over and starting frantically shaking his guardian's shoulder.

"Glóin! Glóin, wake up! Óin!"

"What is it?"

That was when the floor started creaking and cracking.

* * *

**Am I the only one who goes 'Aww, Bofur!' when Bofur is begging Bilbo to stay? He just sounds so very horrified at the thought of Bilbo going away! It's so sad and cute.**

**Well, I think you'll enjoy the next chapter especially. I have something extra special planned *smiles innocently***

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	10. Down, down, down

The descent into the mountain was treacherous as it was fearful. It was lucky Dwarves were tough and hardy, for Glóin shielded Bilbo without seeming to notice the unyielding stone.

They all landed in a heap of groans and yelps. Glóin hastily lifted Bilbo onto his feet, looking into his eyes, exploring his scalp.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

A shriek, then, a chorus of gibbering and howling came from the walls surrounding them. Glóin took hold of Bilbo's forearm, gripping his ax.

"Get your blade out, laddie."

"What are they?"

"Goblins. Stay in our centre. _Don't_ let them see you if you can help it."

Bilbo fumbled for his sword, the weapon shining as brightly as a blue star. Glóin moved his grip to Bilbo's wrist and pushed him into the middle of the group as they ran and fought.  
There were too many. The Goblins were sly, tricky creatures and had their own, devilish blades that they sliced at the Company with, hissing with glee whenever they managed to score a hit.  
There were too many and though they didn't give up on the hope that they'd manage to beat away the things, they were overpowered, stripped of their weapons and herded over ancient, creaking bridges.

* * *

Memories of Gerontius Took lifting him on his knee to tell a tale came to mind. Gerontius liked telling his daughter's son of how his great-great-great-great uncle, Bandobras had single-handedly killed a Goblin King many years ago.

_"Chopped off his head! Went flying, it did. Goblins were mighty pissed, I heard when I was first told."_

_"Will I meet a Goblin?" Bilbo had asked, gazing at his grandfather._

_"Course not! You'll stay nice and safe in our home."_

Oh, if Gerontius could see him now, he'd have a thing or two to say!  
Bilbo kept close to Glóin as they went on. Glóin was silent, but gently rubbed Bilbo's thumb with his. The comforting gesture was so reminiscent of Bungo, Bilbo swallowed to avoid tears from rising.

"What have you found?"

Looking up, Bilbo saw a terrifyingly large, wobbling Goblin. Upon his head sat a makeshift crown of thin bones and he had round bulbous eyes, staring down at them. Bilbo paled. So, this was the new king. How big had the last one been?

"Dwarves and that!"

"And what?" The Goblin King rumbled. "I see nothing but Dwarven filth!"

"Like 'e can talk," Nori quietly muttered.

Glóin pushed Bilbo further back.

"Well? Is there a non-Dwarf among you?" At the Dwarrow's cold silence, the Goblin King narrowed his eyes. "Shy, eh? Never mind, I'll make you talk. Fushfa, get that pretty one with stubble. We start with the youngest."

Fíli hauled Kíli closer. "You are going nowhere near him, you scum! Back!"

"Rare for Dwarves to have golden hair. Your head might make a nice trophy..."

"Stop!" Bilbo pulled away from Glóin and away from the hands pulling at him. "Leave them alone!"

Glóin tried to follow Bilbo, drag him back into the safety of the group, but was stopped by the serrated, rusting metal of a Goblin sword at his neck. Heart beating wildly, he prayed nothing bad would happen. The Goblins lowered their weapons and watched in glee as their King advanced upon the non-Dwarven captive.

"And what are you?"

"Neither Dwarf or Goblin." Bilbo answered.

The Goblin King scowled. "I ask you again. No funny business this time!"

"I'm a halfling."

"Half of what?"

"Nothing."

_"I'LL MAKE HALF OF YOU, IF YOU DON'T ANSWER PROPERLY_!" The Goblin King roared. "You..." There was silence.  
And then comprehension shone in pale eyes. "A child of the West, you are. A descendant of Bullroarer?"

"What was he, a friend of yours?"

Glóin couldn't believe what he was seeing and hearing. That irresponsible young devil! If they got out of this alive and well, he would take that clever-tongued, feisty little hobbit and...  
Well, he could decide later.  
For now, he watched, noticing Fíli was subtly sliding his hand into his collar. What he was hunting for, Glóin couldn't guess.  
Unless... Had the Goblins missed a weapon? Fíli _did_ have a habit of hiding his knives in the most unexpected places.

"I should slice your head off where you stand! However, who said we had to play fair, hmm?"

Fíli extracted the knife from his fur, careful to avoid the blade reflecting light. He squinted at the Goblin King as he advanced towards Bilbo, looking for the best spot to aim for.  
Goblins were tough, though they, like all creatures, had a soft spot. The neck? It looked so disgustingly soft, the way it hung a load of fatty flesh over his chest. He decided the neck would be his best choice. Positioning the knife carefully in his hand, he lifted his throwing arm and hurled it.

Bilbo jumped away as the Goblin King gave a blood-freezing howl of pain. Large hands groped at the larger neck and he fell to his knees, pulling something long and shining with green, thick blood from his neck. Half his Goblins swiftly surrounded him, the others staring mutely at their captors.

"Run! RUN!" Thorin ordered, grabbing Orcrist back from the pile of weapons. "Now!"

Weapons were reclaimed and Glóin ran to grab Bilbo, before following the others.

"What were you thinking?!"

"They would've killed them!"

There wasn't really much opportunity to discuss the matter properly. The Goblins were gaining upon them, encircling them and Glóin didn't dare distract Bilbo from their very real, very worrying danger. The Company came to a sudden halt and Glóin stopped, tugging Bilbo close to his chest, holding his ax before them. There was no longer any point in running.

"Stay close together," Balin whispered.

There was a chilling silence as the Goblins came near. They all kept close, so close that there wasn't so much as a centimetre of personal space to be had.  
There was a sudden sound, like wood breaking. The Goblins froze, looking at each other.

"What is that?" One of them asked.

"I don't know, do I?"

There was a pulsing wave of pale light before the Company. The Goblins before them seemed aware of this and some turned to look.

"What's that?"

"Maybe it's a type of evil magic!"

Whatever those creatures thought was "evil", Glóin hoped he would never find out. The light grew stronger, brighter, the sound of wood breaking mingled with the familiar tones of splitting rock.  
Without warning, the light filled the cavern, temporarily blinding them all, not least the Goblins who all began howling, covering their eyes with their gnarled, moist hands.

"Gandalf." Dori murmured.

Glóin felt calmed by the Wizard's arrival, even if it was a bit late. The grey-haired male would surely be able to get them out of this mess and then he could attend to his hobbit, who seemed to think it was his life's mission to make all his guardian's hair silver by the time they reached Erebor.

They moved on, trying to get to the Wizard, before he attracted the attention of the Goblins.

"This way!" Gandalf called, running to a bridge. "Follow me, quickly!"

Glóin paused briefly to place Bilbo in front of him. It would be no good to lose him now.

Bilbo had never been overly fond of heights. He'd climbed a tree or two in his younger years, but they'd never been too high and his papa had always been there to keep an eye and he'd had his mother clambering up the branches with him.

This was wholly different.

For one thing, they never were chased by screeching mountain devils and the branches had been strong and sturdy. The bridge shook and groaned as they ran across. The Dwarves didn't seem to mind this, but it frightened Bilbo so he gripped tightly to the large Dwarven paw encasing his hand and hoped for the best.

Without warning, a hard force barreled into them, tearing the hobbit and his guardian apart. Bilbo heard the panicked cries of his Dwarven companions as he and his attacker tumbled off the bridge and into the depthless dark below.


	11. Back Together

**WARNING: Later on there will be NON-GRAPHIC discussions of stitching. I repeat NON-GRAPHIC discussions of stitching. As in when people get badly hurt and need bits sewn back together stitching. If that is triggering, by all means, avoid this chapter. If not, I hope it's good enough for your reading :)**

**Love from Shania. xx**

* * *

It was all Glóin could do to not jump after Bilbo. Óin apparently knew exactly what he was thinking (By Mahal, when did his brother not know?) and dragged him along, barking at him to pay attention to his surroundings.

He sounded hard to those who didn't know him, but Glóin knew Óin far too well. He stole a glance at his elder brother and his knowledge was confirmed when he saw the pinched, fearful expression that had not been shown to the Goblins.

Óin, he knew, was just as scared as he was.

* * *

Bilbo lashed out at the vile creature. Its sharp teeth were bared at him and it was strong, so strong... It was going to kill him before they even reached the bottom of their fall...

Goblin and Hobbit landed with a resounding thud. Bilbo fought hard to get back up, but even though hobbits are notoriously good at recovering from falls, this had been an exceptionally high one and he gasped, panting harshly as he lay on the ground.

The Goblin snickered. "No one around here. No one will hear your screams..."

It was prowling towards him now, pale eyes gleaming in the relative dark. Bilbo found some energy and used it to shuffle back, cringing as unprotected neck met the rubbery dampness of some unknown plant.

"D-don't."

Where was his sword? He'd had it somewhere. He glanced around, feeling both relieved and afraid when he saw it. It still glowed blue, but it was too far away. He would never reach it in time.

"It'd be a kindness really. You wouldn't live too long here, would you?"

Bilbo would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so frightening. A Goblin talking about kindness?

"What would you know about kindness, you demon spawn of the Mountains?"

Snarling, the Goblin lunged forward, grabbing Bilbo's shirt and lifting him from the ground as though he weighed less than a mere pebble. "What did you just say, you miserable, trespassing-"

"Isn't 'trespassing' a rather big word for you?"

The Goblin dropped him onto the sharp ground. For a moment, Bilbo thought he was going to be beheaded, but instead he felt a hard, leathery hand to the side of his head, throwing him several yards. He didn't feel anything until a wave of excruciating pain shot through his ear and warm liquid began flowing from his damaged ear.

The sword shone even brighter and Bilbo realised, without meaning to, the Goblin had done him a favour. Shaking, he grasped the hilt and tried to calm down, to ignore the pain.

The Goblin was coming over again.

He gathered all his strength, and though there was little of it, he managed to slice it at the Goblin's hand. There was a howl of pain and a clatter of metal and Bilbo came to the realisation that he'd somehow managed to disarm his opponent.

"You!"

Expecting a new attack, Bilbo tensed himself and sliced upwards. The Goblin yowled and staggered back, suddenly falling.

Bilbo ran.

* * *

Glóin had no idea where they were. Óin still hadn't let go of his sleeve, guiding him through the tunnels after their companions and Wizard.

He would have liked to have gone back and searched for Bilbo, but Óin would never have allowed that.

"Where are we going?"

"Just follow me." Gandalf said. "I know where the sunlight is."

"I'll go out of here if I must, but I'm not leaving 'til we've got Bilbo back." Glóin told Óin.

Óin nodded. "I'll stay with you. But, you know, he might not be.."

"I know! I know, brother."

Óin removed his grip and placed an arm 'round his brother's shoulders.  
The rest of the journey was spent in quietness.

* * *

The world was blurry around the edges and if it hadn't been for the endless stinging in his ear, Bilbo would have thought the creature in the tunnels had truly killed him.

He had been frightening. No Goblin was that and Bilbo didn't wish to go back and ask.

"He stole it!"

"It" was happily clinging to his index finger. The creature, Gollum, had passed him twice and not seen him even when the hobbit was directly before him.  
It was a magic ring, then. What Gollum used it for, Bilbo didn't like to think. He forced himself to think of the earth he could practically hear calling to him.

"Bilbo!"

Wait, the earth couldn't talk! Someone was calling for him! Bilbo hurried along, listening for that voice.

* * *

Glóin was refusing to leave that exit. Quarter of a mile from it anyway. Óin had insisted he leave the Mountain itself for fear a Goblin would come along and finish him off.

"Bilbo!"

"Glóin, enough! He's probably-"

"Don't you finish that sentence, Thorin!" Glóin warned. "He's too clever to die."

The thought alone of Bilbo lying, broken and dying at the bottom of a deep crevice filled Glóin with dread and he called again. "Bilbo!"

"Glóin, he's not as tough as we are. He's dead."

"Thorin." Óin snapped. "You aren't helping."

"Óin..."

"Now look," Óin gave Thorin the same look he used to give Glóin when his brother had attempted to lark about with his supplies. "Bilbo protected your nephews. Allow my brother and I this hope and we won't have problems. Do you understand what I'm saying here?"

Thorin nodded. "Aye. Take your time then."

Not so far away, Bilbo could hear the calls. His legs trembled and he recognised the voice, feeling a wave of new strength help him on his way.  
Glóin was there. Glóin was waiting. He saw the crack of light and paused, only to remove his ring before stepping out into the radiant warmth of the sun's light once more.

* * *

"Bilbo!"

Thorin glanced up. That was no heartbroken cry, that was a relieved call.

Glóin could see he was afraid, that he was tired. Not caring if thousands of Goblins decided to appear, he ran to meet him.

"Glóin.." Bilbo couldn't stand anymore. Sinking to his knees, he felt strong hands grip his shoulders.

"Bilbo? Óin!"

Óin inhaled sharply. "What the hell happened to his ear?"

Glóin swore violently. "That Goblin scum!"

Cautiously, Óin touched the wound. It was only the lightest of touches, but Bilbo yelled and turned away.

"Please, don't touch it."

"I'm sorry, laddie, but I will have to touch it."

"No!"

"Must you?" Glóin asked

"I can't examine or heal it without looking at it properly." Óin told him.

"Let's go elsewhere." Glóin suggested. "I don't want him looking at those mountains and being hurt at the same time."

Óin consented with a tilt of his head. "Best be quick then. Can he stand?"

* * *

"AAHH!"

"Bilbo, don't move your head." Óin requested, gently moving his patient's head back into the light.

"Please, don't touch it any- AHH!"

"Óin, wait. Let me have a look," Gandalf suggested. He knelt by them and quietly coaxed Bilbo into showing him his wounded ear. He was careful not to touch, but gave a soft sigh of dislike. "I see."

"What is it?"

"It's torn and won't heal naturally."

"So? We'll just stitch it back together."

"Oh, no. Glóin, don't let him!"

He sounded so terrified, Glóin frowned up at the Wizard. "Why is that such a bad thing?"

"Well." Gandalf thought for a moment. "Ahem. All creatures have particular 'pleasure' zones if you will and hobbit ears are..." Gandalf cleared his throat.

"Does that mean they can come by just touching their ears?"

"Nori!" Dori hissed.

"Well, I don't know, do I?"

"There is always one," Gandalf thought. "You will have to stitch it." he told Óin. Being an Istari certainly had its low points, he decided sorrowfully. Using his powers to hurry the healing process would be the more favourable option.

"No!" Bilbo growled, carefully covering his injury. "No stitches."

"Alright," Óin said, "No stitches."

The Dwarves watched their healer with confusion. No stitches? That didn't sound like Óin.

"Will you do a favour and let me put this balm on?" Óin asked, holding out the pot for Bilbo to see. "It'll help with the pain."

That it would, though Óin knew it wouldn't completely mask it. Bilbo finally allowed Óin's aid, though he borrowed Glóin's words from earlier to make his displeasure known.

"Fancy teaching," Óin muttered, "words like that. You ought to be ashamed, brother."

"You taught me 'em in the first place!"

The balm wouldn't take too long to work and Óin stood, fixing all of them with a steely gaze, as if to say, "bugger off, he doesn't need all you gawping!" They went reasonably quickly and Óin gave Glóin a particular look. Glóin held back a sigh and pulled Bilbo a tad closer.

Óin replaced the balm and looked at the row of sharp, pointed needles. There was a roll of string that he plucked out before finally choosing a needle.

Glóin almost had Bilbo in his lap. He looked at the sharp needle and then at Bilbo and in that moment, Óin could have sworn he saw a look of terrible heartache, not seen since Gimli had needed all ten of his fingers relocated after a nasty fall down the steps back in Ered Luin.

"Keep the uninjured ear to your shoulder." Óin instructed his brother.

"What's going on?"

"Shh, now," Óin soothed. "It'll be over and done with soon."

"What?"

He'd forgotten a wet cloth. Of all the foolishness! A shadow fell and he glanced up to see Bifur looking at him, holding a waterskin and a small, clean cloth in his hand. It was what he used to clean his spear, but he'd obviously found somewhere to give it a scrub and had returned with it.

"Thank you, Bifur."

This was met with a small smile. Bifur handed the item to Óin, brushing the healer's thumb with his as he did so.

Bifur didn't actually leave and Óin didn't actually mind. Bifur was a silent, calming presence.

He wetted the cloth and carefully, slowly cleared away the blood surrounding the wound, tightening his mouth when he saw its severity.  
The balm was a decent one, lasting for a good hour, even with water washing over where it had been placed and Óin was grateful for it.

He wasn't grateful for what he knew he had to do, though.

Bilbo saw the spark of silver and gasped, struggling in Glóin's arms, trying to escape. "No! Please, Óin, no stitches!"

"Keep still," Óin crooned. "It'll take longer otherwise. Do keep still, lad."

Glóin covered Bilbo's scalp with his hand, though he ensured the lad's ear was presented to Óin. He held him tightly, preventing him from going anywhere, though Bilbo kept trying.

"Glóin, please, I'm sorry.. Don't let him put a needle through my ear."

"Oh, Lord Mahal," Glóin thought. "Bilbo doesn't think this a punishment, does he?"

"It needs to be stitched back up, otherwise..." Óin trailed off. Moving closer, he gently moved the parts in need of fixing together, hardening his heart against the pained cries that accompanied his actions.


	12. Fixing Wounds

**I hope that you're all very, very proud of yourselves, I nearly cried reading the reviews. They were so nice, thank you!**

**Remember I said this would be a _'little' _ AU-like? Forget that, it's gone AU bigtime! Only in that Azog won't be here for a little while longer, my friends.  
When I say love, between Bilbo and Glóin, it's family love, not 'I want to have your babies' love. Keep that in mind as you read on!**

**This is _sort of_ a filler chapter, but it serves as a way for Glóin and Bilbo to bond a little more.**

**Hope it will be enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**

* * *

Glóin gently smoothed down curls, trying his hardest to not order Óin to stop (not that he would have). Bilbo had long surpassed hissing at the pain, and had to have his hands held together after he tried to push Óin's hands away. The hobbit was in tears. Glóin didn't know what to do other than hold him tightly and hope the rest of the treatment didn't agonise him any further.

"There." Óin snipped the string. "All done."

Bilbo, who until that moment had been communicating with yelps and the occasional sob, pushed against Glóin's arms, demanding his freedom back.

"How could you let that happen?!" Bilbo asked, raising his voice.

"Well, we didn't have much choice," Glóin pointed out, trying to calm Bilbo down.

"You had plenty of choice! Tricking me into thinking that," he turned to give Óin and his needle a very nasty look, "wasn't going to happen and then.. then...!"

Glóin didn't know what else to do. "Well, it's done with now.."

Bilbo looked livid. Opening his mouth, he probably would have said a great deal of rather rude things had Óri and Kíli not decided to intervene.  
Bilbo settled for giving a last death glare as the two young dwarves led him away.

Glóin glanced over at Óin. "What's he so upset for?"

Bofur heard this and frowned, walking over with Nori following, a look of interest on the thief's features.

"Bless me, you're clueless!"

"What?"

"Wonderful start, Bofur." Nori praised, tugging affectionately on one of his friend's braids.

Bofur paused to trap Nori's hand. "Great pillock. Anyway, you are a fool, if you don't mind my saying!"

"Eh?!"

"By Mahal's great, hairy.." Nori was beginning to feel as annoyed as Bofur.

"Nori!"

"Toes, I was going to say, you filth! Glóin, I don't know who dropped you on your head when you were a beardling, though I strongly suspect it was Óin..."

Óin looked appalled. "I would never do that!"

"..But, really. You can't see how you've managed to betray his trust in you?"

"I did no such thing!" Glóin snapped.

Bofur began stuttering inelegantly before simply saying, "What? You did!"

"And how did I manage that?"

"You and him." Nori said, pointing at Óin.

"Aye, that's right. Your brother stated there would be no stitches and then went back on his word..."

"An' you made him go through with it. Poor bugger was terrified!"

"But he needed the stitches!" Óin defended.

"We know that! But, you got his defences down and-"

"Well, how could I do it when he was curled up, hands covering the injury? I'd like to see you stitch a wound up, Nori..."

"I'll have you know, I've stitched enough of my own up to know what frame of mind is needed for the operation!"

"Alright! I've made a mistake, I admit it." Glóin interrupted. "What do I do, then?"

"Just... be there, apologise, let him punch you if he wants." Bofur suggested.

"Do what you do when you make mistakes with your lad." Nori said, earning a nod of approval from Bofur.

* * *

"And then I had to have stitches too and they were the most horrible, agonising thing I ever had." Kíli finished, nodding his head as though in self-agreement.

"'Tis true, Bilbo." Fíli said. "I was there and Kíli was not happy. It took four of us - me, Mam, Uncle and Balin - to get him to keep his arm still."

"The underside of the forearm," Kíli told him, leaning forward and dropping his tone conspirationally, "is the most sensitive part a Dwarrow has because it's soft and unprotected by hair."

"And yours was stitched up?"

"It was," Kíli confirmed. "And it was the longest, most painful ten minutes of my life. Wanna see?"

Before Bilbo could refuse, the youngest heir of Durin had rolled up his deep blue sleeve, showing the Hobbit a faded, lightly-coloured scar that ran from the crook of his elbow to just above his wrist.

"And that is why you should never play with knives." Kíli said softly, recovering his arm. "I didn't want the stitches either."

"I bet your mother didn't trick you into it," Bilbo muttered.

Fíli chuckled. "It's a good thing you didn't bet money on that!"

Kíli was smiling, a corner of his mouth perked upwards. "She did, my friend. Only because I was heavily against it."

"It doesn't make it right!"

"Of course it doesn't!" Kíli agreed. "And, believe me, I was not happy at all with her for doing it."

"But neither was she." Fíli added. "She felt terrible about it."

"It wasn't because she didn't care, it was because she did care. Little did I know, the cut could have developed itself a nasty illness."

"Bilbo," said Fíli, looking directly at him, "I don't think I've ever seen Glóin look as afraid as when he thought he'd lost you."

* * *

Strange how he always managed to inflict fear into the hearts of those who cared for him. His father had often said his only son was the exact reason his hair had turned grey early.

Bilbo didn't mean to scare people.

He reached up to cover his throbbing ear, knowing that actually touching it would only worsen the pain.

Cursed Dwarves and their cursed needles. Though now he knew they'd only been helping him. Óri's description of how bad infections could easily get, had helped him appreciate that fact.

Didn't help the agony go, though.

"Akhûnith?"

He started at the familiar word, turning to look at his Dwarven guardian.

"How are you feeling?"

He was trying to be gentle, Bilbo realised. He wasn't angry, despite what had happened with the Goblin king, he wasn't cross even though Bilbo hadn't been particularly polite (though he'd had a good reason!). He really did care and Bilbo felt soothed if only by the Dwarf's presence.

He wasn't going to be dishonest about the pain, though.

"I think my ear's about to drop off."

If Glóin found it amusing, he didn't show it. "I'm sorry, lad. I should've been truthful with you about what was going to happen."

He should have and Bilbo was still stung, literally, about getting sewn up without consent, but the urge to shout at his guardian was draining out of him, leaving him to nod.

"It wasn't because of what happened in the Goblin town, was it?"

Glóin was horrified. "Of course not! Why would you think such a thing?"

"Just... Just a thought."

Glóin was shaking his head. "Aüle above. No, I was not happy about you getting lippy with the Goblin King, but the stitches wouldn't have happened if we didn't have to put them in." His voice softened. "So, they were nothing for you to be sorry for, my lad."

"You knew they would hurt."

"Yes. They're not the nicest of things to be had, but they heal injuries that won't seal up by themselves."

"I suppose.. I know they weren't just to hurt. But they did."

"If I could've spared you the pain, I would," Glóin promised.  
Bilbo glanced up at him with brimming eyes. "I know!"

He was angry and he didn't know whether it was at Glóin or the insistent, irritating pain pulsing through his injury.  
He was in tears again. He didn't want to, but he was and in a rare moment of childlike wishfulness, he wished that he had his papa there to soothe away all the hurt.

He didn't have Bungo. But he did have Glóin.

His first clue that the Dwarf was still there was a surprisingly light touch to his shoulders. His second was that there was a sudden tight warmth encasing his body and without meaning to, he buried his head in the secure softness of his guardian's shoulder.

Though it was a rather unbelievable fact, Nori sometimes gave the most excellent advice.

At least Bilbo had forgiven him the mistake. Glóin had genuinely been afraid his pundurith would never forgive him.

"How was it," he wondered, "that he suddenly became so important to me?"

He bet the Wizard knew this would happen.

He let himself ruffle the coppery-golden curls back as he felt Bilbo move. His eyes looked sore and Glóin placed a hand under his chin, initiating eye contact.

"Do you feel any better?"

Bilbo nodded, curling a hand around Glóin's wrist, managing a faint smile. "Thank you. You didn't leave me."

Glóin moved his hand to clasp Bilbo's shoulder. "What sort of guardian would abandon the person he cares for?"

Bilbo looked curious, opening his mouth as though he wished to ask a question before seemingly thinking better of it.

"Hey, what is it?"

"Nothing," Bilbo answered.

Glóin raised an eyebrow. "Have we only just met? Tell me, laddie."

To his credit, Bilbo did appear to want to tell. "Well, I may have overheard you and Thorin talking last night."

"Oh?"

What had he said last night? Curse his bad memory. Curse it straight into oblivion.

"Um, I heard.. You said you consider me to be like kin."

"Yes."

"Thorin said.. He did say.."

"I know what he said," Glóin told him gently, cutting him off before he "Ummed" his whole way through telling Glóin what the dwarf already knew. "And, for once, he was correct."

Bilbo looked like his eyes were about to fall from his head. "But... You love your son. I mean, he's yours, you... Ohh."

Glóin watched him try to get the words out before slowly counting to ten. "Do you honestly think," he said quietly, "that because we are not blood-related, I cannot love you?"


	13. Pundurith

**Was going to be up yesterday, but bad news was gotten. ****The world has lost someone very special.**

* * *

It had been perhaps two years since anyone had told Bilbo they loved him.  
The last had been Belladonna who had looked at him with deadened, pale turquoise eyes and had murmured "love you" so quietly, Bilbo hadn't been entirely certain she'd said it at all.

She'd been heartbroken to lose his father.

The days following her death had been filled with pity, but love had been non-existent. Particularly where Lobelia had been involved.

To hear Glóin state it so bluntly, well!

It was a shock to say the least.

He couldn't think what to say. Nothing in his head sounded right and as he struggled to find the right words, he noticed Glóin was stepping away, the same expression Thorin had worn when Balin had told of Anazulbizar glimpsing through the thick facial hair.

"I.. I don't!" Bilbo blurted out, horrified that Glóin would think such a thing. "Of course not! There's plenty of families that have taken in and cared for fauntlings."

"But?"

Glóin had been a father for far too long, Bilbo decided. "Well, I.. I'm... I'm different to you. I can hardly fight, I'm not strong or tough.."

Glóin's expression had changed again. "By Mahal!" he growled. "D'you really think all of _that_ is what _matters_? It does matter that you can't fight, in these circumstances, but you can be taught to fight. All this talk of strength and endurance! You've managed well enough."

"Yes, but.."

"I'll give you that you haven't _our_ strength, but you have your own!" Glóin paused. "And you survived that fall."

Bilbo nodded. "I know, just.. I barely belong in my own family."

Glóin was looking at him again, a slight glimmer in his eye. "You fit in with _my_ family just fine."

Bilbo blinked. "I'd forgotten that you're all cousins and brothers and the odd nephew or two," he mused.

"And?"

"Perhaps you're right."

* * *

_'Perhaps'_. Glóin shook his head as he watched Bilbo talk to Óin. It made sense in a sad way that he didn't quite believe it. He'd not truly belonged with his own family and certain people hadn't given him cause to believe he belonged with Glóin's either.

He could fix that, however.

Not just him. The others seemed to appreciate the fact Bilbo was alive and reasonably healthy. Particularly Óri who seemed to think a Goblin might attack Bilbo at any given moment and was currently following him around wherever he went.

He stole a look at Thorin. His cousin was looking at Bilbo differently. Almost relieved, like he would look at his nephews, but not as warmly.

At least something had changed there.

* * *

"We should move on."

Looks were thrown the Wizard's way.

"Must we? The young ones are exhausted." Dori pointed out.

"Yes. It's best we go now to find somewhere to rest while we have the sun's light."

"He's right, I suppose." Bofur said, helping Nori to his feet. "Too much of a risk that the Goblins might come out again. And we're a bit close to the Mountains."

"Need you pull so hard?" Nori muttered.

"I'm sorry," Bofur said, smirking. "I forget, you like to_ pull yourself_ _up_!"

"Oi! My younger brother's present, you disgusting sleazebag!"

"Like _you_ haven't said worse!"

Bilbo struggled to hide a laugh as the two bantered on. He was, in truth, only too glad to leave the Mountains with their many Goblins and that fearsome creature far behind.

* * *

They found camp just as the sun was starting to disappear. Gandalf had deemed it far enough from the Mountains and Bilbo made to follow Glóin to help collect the firewood, only to be stopped.

"Stay here and rest. You're so tired, you'd likely collapse and then Óin'd be after us both."

"I can manage."

Glóin shook his head. "Do as I say."

Bilbo would have argued his case more had Óri not come along and dragged him away. Satisfied the hobbit was at least in safe hands, Glóin headed to Dwalin to ask for his aid before going into the woods with his companion.

* * *

When he returned, it was to find Bilbo giving the most _distrustful_ look to Óin as the latter tried to get him to put more of the balm on his ear.

"Not after what happened last time." Bilbo was saying, edging further and further away.

"No stitches, really, I promise you." Óin said. "I haven't any needles, they're in my bag."

"Well, how do I know you haven't one hidden in your beard or your hair or your.. eyebrows?"

"How, in Mahal's blessed name, could I have one hidden in my _eyebrows_?!"

"He's right, lad," Glóin told Bilbo. "Besides, he'd never hide a needle in his hair, he's too afraid of losing them."

"You're the reason I fear losing them," Óin muttered. "Larking about with them when you were a beardling..."

"Anyway," Glóin interrupted. "It's alright. You're safe from the stitches, _pundurith_."

"_Pundurith_?" Bofur repeated, his trademark grin etching itself onto his features. "Aw, how sweet!"

Bilbo finally accepted the pot from Óin, tenderly dabbing a bit on his injury. "Bofur, what is a _pundurith_?"

Bofur looked thrilled "You don't know?"

"Well, he has got pointy little ears." Nori said, ignoring what Bofur had said.

"But he has no whiskers!"

"Or a tail."

"Yes, but he has got furry little feet." Kíli declared.

"Which he's very quiet on..." Fíli said.

"It's an animal of some sort?" Bilbo guessed.

"And he's clever, despite how innocent and sweet he looks." Bofur pointed out.

Bilbo glanced over at Glóin. The redheaded Dwarrow was smiling to himself and Bilbo felt slightly nervous as to what pundurith truly meant.

"Very tiny." Dwalin said after a short silence.

"Terrifying if you piss him off enough," Bofur chuckled.

"What is a _pundurith_?" Bilbo asked his giggling companions.

"T'is," said Nori, wiping a tear of laughter away, "it's a cat. In this case, it's a baby cat. A kitten."

"A bloody _kitten_?!"

"There's nothing wrong with kittens." Nori said, barely holding coughs of laughter back.

"Why a _kitten_ of all things?"

"Kittens are full of surprises. Not unlike you." Óin said simply. He eased the pot from Bilbo's limp hold.

"A _kitten_."

"Well, they're small, they look deceptively innocent, they can be very clever-minded, they're quiet unless they want someone's attention.." Bofur listed.

"Well... I wouldn't say deceptive."

* * *

"Goodnight, Fluffy!"

Propping himself up on one elbow, Bilbo glared at Glóin as best he could. "See what you've started?"

Glóin grinned, though Bilbo couldn't see. "As I told you, you can't deny how alike you are to a kitten."

"You know, my cousin used to call his wife that."

"That's a strange thing to call a woman."

"I thought so, too."

"Mm. Sleep now." Glóin gave a loud yawn. "We've still a long journey ahead of us."


	14. Strength

He didn't dare sleep. The growling thing in the dark of the Goblin-infested Mountains still haunted him and he rested instead, his tired mind catching snippets of am early morning conversation as dawn rolled around in a rising glow of red, pink and gold.

"Look at that, he even curls up like a kitten."

"Hush, he's only having a catnap!"

Bilbo cracked open an eye, glaring blearily at his dwarves. "Shh! You're all far too easily amused."

"Are you getting up now, pundurith?" Glóin asked, bending to lightly shake Bilbo's shoulder. "'Tis early, but it's best you rise now."

He didn't need to say that Thorin would be displeased if their journey was delayed. Bilbo moved himself off the ground- how he missed the bedroll, lumpy as it had been! - and got to his feet wincing at the aching in his body. He stretched his arms and grimaced at the loud cracking sound that clicked from his joints.

He would be hurting today.

"You alright there?" Glóin asked, casting a scrutinising glance over Bilbo's rigid posture. "You look like you have a literal iron spine."

"Bit sore, but I'll be alright." Bilbo answered.

* * *

"Bit sore". What an understatement. As the day stretched on, Bilbo was certain he was going to find his spine had popped out.

"Can you dislocate your back?"

Óin thought about this for a short while. "No, laddie. You can dislocate a tiny bone in your spine, but you wouldn't be walking now if that'd happened." Óin lightly, for a dwarf, patted his shoulder. "I'll bet it's that fall catching up with you. You'll be alright."

By the end of the day, he was gladly using Glóin as a support. Óin seemed to find this development highly amusing.

"You must be the strongest person here." Bilbo murmured.

Glóin snorted. "Thank you, but that honour goes to Master Dori."

"_Really_?!"

Bilbo's tone and expression was so disbelieving that Nori choked on his pipe, prompting the aforementioned Dori to thump his brother's back in hopes of stopping the hacking coughs.

"Yes, believe it or not. Dori's the strongest dwarf in this company."

"Always the ones you least expect." Dori said, giving Nori a last thump to help his sibling regain his breath.

"How strong?" Bilbo asked.

Dori gave him an astonishingly mischievous smile before calling to Dwalin. "Fancy an arm wrestle tonight?"

Glóin chuckled. "You're in for a treat tonight. You won't be able to take your eyes off it."

"Is... Is he really going to arm wrestle with _Dwalin_?"

"Aye. You just wait."

* * *

Camp was made with haste. Tonight, Glóin allowed Bilbo to help with the firewood and all but dragged him back to the group, sparking a fire and then joining the others as they watched Dori and Dwalin.

There was an air of a great battle about to commence. The two eyed each other before kneeling and grasping hands, still maintaining eye contact.

"Alright," said Balin. "We know the rules, but last time we went a little off-law, didn't we?"

Dwalin was smirking.

"There is to be no," Balin fixed both with a steely glare,"biting, scratching, spitting, insults, gouging, stabbing, poking, kicking, headbutting, or flirting. Particularly flirting. We don't need to see that, thank you both very much."

Dori was grinning now as if recalling a proud moment.

"If you must, you may now begin."

Dori struck first, pushing at Dwalin's arm as though it weighed barely anything. Dwalin's arm was popping a vein with effort and the warrior was roaring with desire to win. Dori was more quiet, but his strength, strength Bilbo had not thought possible, was rearing its head and soon the winner of the competition was revealed as a tattooed hand was nearly smashed into the ground to cheers.

Dori clasped Dwalin's shoulder. "Didn't hurt too bad, did it?"

Dwalin shook his head. "'Course not. One day, I'll beat you at this!"

Dori grinned. "I could beat you in my sleep!"

"Oh, really?"

Taking his eyes off the two warriors, Glóin chuckled softly at the look of awe in Bilbo's eyes. "I see you've had a big shock."

"He won! And it barely took him any time!"

"Dori has surprising strength," Glóin acknowledged. "A thing which can be said for a lot of us, I might add."

Bilbo nodded in agreement. "Where's Bifur taking Óin?"

"He's likely found a pretty flower or summat like that." Glóin's look suddenly turned sharp. "Did you sleep at all last night? You've got shadows under your eyes."

"I slept, yes." Bilbo said. "Not much, though."

"Hmm. Was a long day, yesterday."

"We should rest earlier tonight." Gandalf suggested, giving Bilbo a knowing look.

Thorin seemed to agree. "We can go earlier again tomorrow."

Bilbo rubbed his forehead. "Good. Sounds good."

Glóin eyed him suspiciously. Something was deeply bothering his pundurith. Something Bilbo clearly wanted to keep secret.

Well, he wasn't having _that_.

* * *

He didn't go to sleep straight away. Instead he stayed awake, listening for the sound of Bilbo's breathing.

When he'd first learned of Neoma's pregnancy, Óin had taught his brother how to tell when a person was asleep or not just by hearing them breathe. As Gimli had gotten older, it had been a blessing, for he could step in and discover the reason for his son's insomnia and help him get his rest to boot.

So, it was a home to home for him. Soft breathing, but too fast, too deep for him to be sleeping.

Unless he was having a nightmare.

Glóin reached over to pat his shoulder. "Bilbo?"

"...Yes?"

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I can't."

"What's going on?" Glóin questioned.

"Nothing."

Clear as a bell, Óin stated, "Lad, if _he's_ noticed, we've _all_ noticed. You might as well tell him now and get it done with."

How long Óin had been eavesdropping, Glóin couldn't guess, but he certainly wasn't having this conversation where anyone could hear. Mahal only knew, it could be something of a rather...sensitive nature that Bilbo found so terrifying, it kept him awake.

"Come over here," he whispered. "That's it."

Hobbit safely nestled under his arm, he gently rubbed his back, soothing Bilbo the way he soothed Gimli.

"You're safe enough with us," he reminded. "No Goblins, no Orcs, no anything. Sleep now. We'll discuss it tomorrow."

Despite the close warmth and kindness of Glóin, Bilbo shivered.

Talking about Gollum was not something he particularly wanted to do. Especially with Glóin. What would his guardian think if he found out what Bilbo had taken?

* * *

**Not meant to be Dori/Dwalin, but it does look like that if you look at it the right way. **

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	15. Words

Again, he didn't sleep. He didn't know if Glóin knew, but nonetheless, kept his eyes open, darting glances everywhere, fearing Gollum would lunge from the shadows, screeching for his 'precious'.  
He shuffled closer to Glóin, seeking security that he knew would not come.

Gollum had _destroyed_ that Goblin. He'd torn its skin and limbs off directly in front of where Bilbo had been lying in a growing pile of strange mushrooms and then had dragged the Goblin's corpse off.

Then Bilbo had found a golden ring. A ring he later discovered could turn him invisible when worn. He'd kept this ring and only found out it belonged to Gollum when the creature had found it lost, suspected him immediately and then started shrieking for it back.

In the distance, a bat yowled, its call unexpected to Bilbo. He jumped, inadvertently knocking Glóin awake and tensed, worrying about the animal and the fact that awakening a sleeping dwarf is as good as a death sentence at the best of times.

"You haven't slept, have you?"

He would have liked to have denied this, say he had indeed slept, but he had an inkling that Glóin would see straight through the lie and would be displeased at it.

"No." Bilbo admitted. "I haven't."

Glóin was silent. Bilbo could see him looking upwards and practically heard him thinking something through. Then he carefully moved his arms, gently depositing Bilbo on the ground before getting to his feet. "Up with you, lad."

"What?"

"Get to your feet. We have matters to discuss."

The sky was turning a light purple tinged with gold. Dawn was fast approaching and Glóin knew the others would soon be rising. This pack of sleep would not do at all.

He would unravel the mystery of Bilbo's insomnia now.

* * *

They weren't too far from camp. Glóin could easily see the remains of the fire from last night. But that was not what his focus was on.

Pointing at a nearby rock, he told Bilbo to sit which the hobbit did, watching him with wary eyes.

"What happened, lad?"

"Nothing."

"I've been a father for sixty years," Glóin reminded. "Don't think I can't tell when I'm being fibbed to. What happened?"

He was, of course, too aware that _anything_ could have happened whilst Bilbo was gone. Even things he didn't like to think of. With this in mind, he kept his voice as soft as he could, though he was determined to know the reason Bilbo why couldn't sleep.

"Nothing happened." Bilbo repeated.

Glóin raised an eyebrow. "Bilbo, it's very obvious that something happened."

Bilbo looked down, shaking his head. "Leave it alone, will you?"

Glóin folded his arms. "Tell me what happened down in that crevice. I'm not going to be angry with you. Surely you can see that keeping it to yourself is only causing bad things?"

Bilbo shook his head and wrapped his arms 'round his shaking body. Seeming to calm, he risked another look at his guardian. "Leave me alone! Nothing happened."

"Bilbo," Glóin sharpened his tone. "What ha-"

_"Dare you tell him?"_ a strange voice whispered. _"Do you truly believe his words are true?"_

Bilbo's hand inched to his pocket which held his stolen treasure. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he muttered again, "Nothing happened."

"Bilbo, please..."

"Back off!" Bilbo snarled. "Just leave it be." As a poisonous afterthought, he added. "_What do you even care, anyway?!_"

Glóin exhaled sharply before taking several steps back and walking off. Anger left Bilbo, leaving him feeling cold and frightened as he watched his guardian walk away.

* * *

Of course Glóin kept an eye on Bilbo the rest of the day. He was still aware of his duties after all.  
He wasn't _angry_, strictly speaking, but Mahal above! What had gotten into his pundurith? He had no temper to speak of, from what Glóin had seen over the past few months.

It hadn't been Glóin who'd been lying, mind.

Perhaps he was a bit angry that morning. Not at Bilbo, of course, but surely Bilbo knew better than to lie.

But why had he lied? There was always a reason for these things and Glóin knew Bilbo and he knew it wouldn't be a stupid reason.  
Something bad had happened to Bilbo. He just knew it.

Why else would Bilbo think he didn't care?

* * *

He'd pushed Glóin away. The only one who'd shown him love in nearly three years and he'd behaved like he had.  
It was little wonder Glóin had left him.  
He wouldn't come back and Bilbo wished dearly that he would.

When Bungo had still been alive, if he had a disagreement with his son, he talked about it. He couldn't possibly leave it alone, because he didn't see the point in it.  
Never, not once, had Bungo turned his back.

Bilbo rubbed at the aching ball in his neck, trying to soothe the pain to avoid the threatening drops of liquid burning in his eyes from welling up.

He wanted to walk near Glóin, but was too... Too afraid to say anything, apologise, even just tell him what had happened, but just felt certain that he would be ignored. That Glóin would refuse to listen.

He looked over at his guardian and then back away.

He'd really landed himself in it this time.

* * *

The day's march ended with an hour to spare before sunset. The sun was turning a orange-yellow on the horizon, going on its way down, illuminating the emerald-green trees before them. It was oddly quiet, Bilbo noticed.  
Too quiet for where they were.

Taking his eyes off Bilbo, Óin nudged Glóin. "You two've kept a fair distance today."

His brother's eyes were sharp, yet Glóin could see underneath that focus, a soft gaze, one Óin rarely showed. "Aye," he eventually answered. "That we have."

"Share the tale, _nadad_." Óin requested.

"Well, he's not been sleeping like he ought," Glóin sighed, "and when I asked why, he got defensive. Something scared him there, brother. Something terrified him."

"Something seems to have saddened him, too."

Glóin threw him an astounded look. Óin chuckled.

"I know younglings twice as well as you. Not all parents back off for an hour or two if things get on top of them."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Óin said as patiently as he was able, "now might be a good time to talk to your boy again." His own dark eyes narrowed. "What else is going on?"

"He seems to think I don't care for him."

Óin snorted and lightly shoved his shoulder. "Go and prove that wrong, then!"

Glóin supposed his elder brother had a point. He should really have thought of that idea himself, in truth. He walked over to Bilbo, who was watching Fíli and  
Kíli mock-spar. Lightly tapping his shoulder, he was startled to see the look of guilt in the Shireling's eyes when Bilbo turned and saw who was behind him.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo made haste to say. "I was wrong to say what I did."

There was such fear in the emerald-green eyes staring into his own onyx-black ones that instead of saying "Apology accepted", Glóin elected to instead say, "what's wrong with you?"

He only realised how absurd it had been to reply with that when Bilbo stepped away, looking pained, and Óin audibly sighed, the same way he had done when his younger brother had accidentally hurled his ax through a window.

Judging by his _pundurith's _expression, however, this time he'd harmed something a great deal more valuable than a window.

* * *

**Thank Eru for friends who help you with Writer's Block! And who give you advice on parenting.**

**Hope this was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	16. Into the Fire

Of all the stupid things to say to someone, 'what's wrong with you?' has the be among the worst. Particularly if it meant a sorrowful expression radiating from such large, green eyes.

He'd thought he'd left puppy-eyes behind in the Blue Mountains. In no way was he prepared for this emotional onslaught.

"Burglar, Glóin! Find kindling." Thorin ordered.

Oh, that was not helping. But already, Bilbo was shuffling off to scope out the trees surrounding, leaving Glóin with little other choice than to follow him.

* * *

"There was a creature down there in that crevice," Bilbo murmured after a short while. "He wasn't a Goblin or an Orc. I don't know what he was."

Glóin remained silent. He didn't quite trust himself to speak without somehow blowing the whole thing.

"He _killed_ the Goblin, Glóin. It looked so simple for him to do, as though the Goblin had no strength at all, and then the creature, he...he..."

Bilbo was shivering. Glóin allowed himself to take a closer step, though he was careful to keep some distance. He still hadn't a clue what this creature may or may not have done. Not giving Bilbo enough space could prove to be highly dangerous if nothing else.

"I wasn't harmed by either Goblin or... _him. _He frightened me, the creature. He seemed to be talking to himself and another person and-" Bilbo paused and, unknown to Glóin, touched the smooth surface of the golden ring in his pocket. "He got angry suddenly. I don't know how I got away from him."

"This creature haunts you, doesn't he?"

Bilbo didn't answer, his gaze distant. He was no longer shivering and his revelation that the creature hadn't hurt him gave Glóin the incentive to close the gap between them so that he could touch his shoulder. "Bilbo, you are safe with us. Nothing has accompanied us on our way from those Mountains, we would have noticed by now, _pundurith."__  
_

Bilbo's gaze turned more conscious. "_Pundurith_." he whispered.

Glóin eyed the ground. "Forgive me for what I said. It wasn't meant."

"I didn't mean what I said either"

Glóin lightly tipped Bilbo's chin up. "I never did tell you I forgave you, did I?"

Almost cautiously, Bilbo softly stated, "I thought you might have hated me. We were apart most of the day."

Curse it all. Óin had been right. Jammy sod.

"No, no," Glóin assured. "Hate is a strong word, you know."

"You were angry."

"I wasn't _angry_, I was worried because something was scaring you and frustrated, because something terrible _had_ happened and you wouldn't say what it was."

Bilbo was starting to look guilty again. With good reason, Glóin thought. Lying was unacceptable, but he knew why Bilbo had done so, and he sympathized with him, for the creature had caused a great deal of fear and had robbed him of valuable resting time.

"Why was it that you couldn't tell what was wrong?" Glóin asked.

"I didn't want to talk about him. It was like if I mentioned him, he would appear.."

Ah. This was something Glóin easily understood. It was a common enough fear and he nodded his understanding. "I see. You know you're safe. It's just us, no strange creatures." He paused. "Though you'd be forgiven for calling that Wizard of ours 'strange'..."

Bilbo's tense features softened into his first smile-like expression of the day.

Glóin patted his shoulder. "Next time something frightens or worries you, be sure to come to me or Óin. I don't want you keeping secrets."

"I will," Bilbo promised.

Glóin smiled and stepped back. Turning, he near jumped out of his skin as Nori came charging into the area.

"Have you got your lad?" Nori asked breathlessly.

"Aye. What is it?"

"Forget the wood," Nori warned. "Get your weapon out. Wargs have been heard."

As if on cue, the other eleven Dwarves and their Wizard came pouring through the trees. Amidst the calls at them to run, _but stay with the group_, Bilbo could hear the loud wailing howls of the fearsome beasts behind them.

* * *

**Oh my. One thing to the next with this lot! I know it's not very long, and I apologise, but I'm saving the length up for next chapter. :)**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	17. Fire and Darkness

"Trees! Up into the trees!"

There was nowhere else to run. There was a cliff directly before them and to try and climb down it in in the darkening light would have been suicide. Bilbo grasped tightly onto the hilt of his dagger, but it fell through his shaking fingers. Cursing, he swooped to pick it back up, tensing as he heard an animalistic snarl from behind.

It was like a demon wolf. The teeth were sharper and longer, the fur thicker, the body stronger, thick with muscle, but it had dog-like paws and the glowing, amber eyes were very much reminiscent of the animals that had clawed their way through the Shire. It saw him, pupils becoming smaller and it growled before running at him.

He knew he could hardly push it away and did the only thing he could think of that would save him. Holding the sword in front of his body and praying that he wouldn't get impaled from the force of the beast charging towards him. There was a sickening crunch and the best fell to one side, the dagger buried up to the hilt in its skull.

More were coming. Bilbo tugged and pulled at his weapon, trying in earnest to remove it from the Warg, but it was stuck fast. He was just losing hope of getting away from the animals when a large hand closed over his, aiding him in his attempts.

"Come, quickly now!"

He let his savior guide him towards a tree, accepting his help and noticed it was Glóin who had given his strength. He blinked. "Where is Óin?"

"He's in a tree somewhere. Told him to get safe and I'd find you."

Relieved at the safety of his guardian and said guardian's brother, Bilbo looked downwards. "Who first saw them?"

"That would be young Fíli, I heard. He and Kíli were scouting and they came back fairly soon, saying about the Wargs."

They were circling the trees now. However, they weren't attacking, simply looking around as though waiting for something.

"What are they doing?" Bilbo asked.

Glóin frowned. "I don't know, but it doesn't look too good." he carefully gripped Bilbo's shoulder. "Don't fall, now."

There was a soft gasp and Bilbo glanced to his left, noticing Balin. "By the Maker." the white-haired Dwarrow murmured.

The tree next to them betrayed a movement of deep blue and grey furs. "Azog." There was a pause and all heard Thorin whisper, "it cannot be."

The Pale Orc growled something in the vile sound of his own language. "_Thorin un dahg Thráin." _he hissed slowly, a crooked smile taking over his thin lips. He roared other words and suddenly his Wargs attacked the trees, causing them to shake and groan in disapproval of the abuse they were now suffering.

Glóin grasped Bilbo tightly as their tree swung. Without warning, it toppled back, hitting the two trees closely behind it. Quickly, they grabbed onto branches, clambering awkwardly over the trees, trying desperately to escape the Wargs. Now, around half of them were squashed together, watching with horror as the biting, snarling creatures below roared and jumped at them.

A streak of fire flew towards them, along with Gandalf's shouted instruction of, "Catch!"

Bifur plucked it out of the air, gazing with curiosity at it. It seemed to be a pine-cone, yet it was burning fiercely.

"Rub it against another pine-cone and aim it at them!" Gandalf bellowed, throwing his own ammunition.

Mission understood, they grabbed for their own, sharing the fire and swinging them at the Wargs and Orcs surrounding. It was going well, until all the trees seemed to give out and began collapsing, forcing the thirteen Dwarves, Hobbit and Wizard to jump from branch to branch again.

All too soon, there was nowhere else to go, but down. The tree Gandalf shared with Dori, Óri and Dwalin creaked, falling and landing with its topmost part hanging over the cliff. There was a shriek and a terrified, panicked call of, "Dori!" and somewhere, Bilbo heard Nori give a strangled gasp before their own trees collapsed.

It wasn't the most enjoyable thing, being a passenger of a falling tree. Bilbo slowly opened his eyes, looking around. Glóin was lying on his side, a tree branch trapping his legs, forcing himself to breathe normally, but he looked pale and wounded. Bilbo crouched by him.

"How badly does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," Glóin told him. "What about you?"

"I'm not hurt."

Glóin nodded, patting his elbow. "Good."

"Brother!" Óin called. "How are you?"

"Over here!" Glóin bellowed back.

"How is everyone?" Balin asked.

Bilbo turned his head, his hearing picking up the thudding sound of boots. He made out a mane of dark hair, threads of silver running through the black locks and the familiar sheen of a long coat trimmed with fur. "Where's Thorin going?"

"_Thorin_!" Dwalin roared. There was a crack of wood and Balin glanced over, startled, his expression turning to one of great fear at something Bilbo couldn't see.

Bilbo could see, through the smoke and red flickering of the fire surrounding, Thorin running, his sword held high and his oaken shield held higher.

He was headed toward Azog.

Time stood still. Then it exploded. Bilbo could see Azog's large, spike encrusted mace swinging at Thorin, causing him to be thrown from his feet. Thorin was so tall, so _strong _that the strength Azog seemed to have frightened Bilbo greatly. How strong was Azog if he could even send _Thorin_ to the ground?  
Not to be deterred, Thorin struggled back to his feet, flinging his hair out of his eyes only to be struck to the chest and sent literally flying to a rock several feet away.

There was silence, save for Fíli and Kíli desperately calling for Thorin.

Then Azog spoke.

An Orc made his way over to Thorin, deliberately slow.

Bilbo stood, sliding his sword out of its sheath, the blade glowing as bright a blue as it ever had.

"Bilbo? Lad, what are you doing?" Glóin asked.

"Thorin," Bilbo murmured.

"Bilbo, _don't_. It's far too dangerous for you." Glóin ordered.

There was no one else. Everyone was either wounded or struggling to save themselves from death. It had to be him. Ignoring his guardian's words, Bilbo ran on, panic rising as he saw the Orc raise a sharp, dully glinting blade above Thorin's unprotected throat.

* * *

Glóin pushed and struggled at the stubbornly heavy branch, watching Bilbo's shrinking figure as it ran towards Thorin. _Mahal, Mahal, if Bilbo got hurt, if he got killed..._ The branch moved a tad and he continued shoving at it, finally freeing himself just as Bilbo hurled himself at the Orc, knocking it and himself to the ground.  
Running his fingers along the charred earth, he found his ax and pulled it up. Stopping only to give Fíli and Kíli a hand over the expanse of fallen tree, he ran towards their companions, the two young princes and, by the sound of it, most of the Company following him.

* * *

The Orc was either dead or dying, a mess of small lines oozing black, shining blood from his wounds. Bilbo stepped back, staring into the intense eyes of Azog. The Pale Orc was snarling at him, sounding like one of his Wargs and Bilbo waved his sword at him in hopes of warning him off.

It didn't work.

However, aid had arrived in the form of at least eight angry Dwarves, all fighting for their fallen king, slicing down Orcs as though they'd never get another chance to.

"What in Mahal's glorious name were you thinking?" Glóin snapped, making his way over, pausing only to swing his ax at Orcs who came too close. "You could have been killed!"

Bilbo didn't hear. All he saw was a blur of white and he rushed past Glóin and slashed at the snout of the beast, causing it to release a blood-freezing yelp of pain. Azog _roared_. Dismounting his beast, he stormed over to Bilbo, mace held high...

The world suddenly turned black.

* * *

**Well, that was fun to write!**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	18. The Opening

***IMPORTANT NOTICE* Recently, I've been having trouble uploading new stories. I have the patience of a four-year old, so I made a new account for new stories. THIS DOES_ NOT_ MEAN I WILL ABANDON_ SHOMAKHAL _OR_ MELEKUN _OR_ BACK TO THE START _OR ANY OTHER STORY. It just means I've lost patience with the endless waiting for the site to kick in.**

**The name of the new account is _Daughter of The Mountains._ Keep your eyes peeled (not literally, eugh!) and fingers crossed that things go well :)**

* * *

Bilbo drifted in and out of consciousness over the next few days. When he awoke, it was like being in a hazy dream which lasted barely a minute, full of echoing voices, panicked eyes and gentle touches.  
Usually, he stayed asleep.

* * *

When Thorin thought no one was looking, he glanced hopefully at Bilbo, only to look back away, disappointed. Glóin knew what Thorin was doing, of course, and though every instinct he had told him to bellow at Thorin, cause him any sort of pain for what his actions had allowed, he couldn't bring himself to do it, though he glared fiercely at him.

Thorin looked wretched. The way he looked at Bilbo, his sapphire-bright eyes pleading with the hidden emerald-green ones, pleading for Bilbo to just awaken and be safe... Glóin couldn't bring himself to do that to his cousin.

He was angry with Thorin, but he wasn't so cruel.

At least he tried not to be.

He tried his hardest to stay patient, tried to think of the person Gandalf was leading them to who would be able to help, but then he'd look at Bilbo, bruised, cut up and unconscious and something sharp jabbed inside his chest and all the bitter hurt and anger welled up until he ended up snapping at someone.

Usually it was Óin who bore the brunt of his brother's furious ranting. He took it all in stride, always knowing that Glóin never meant his angry words, that he was frightened.

"And you're overtired," he said on more than one occasion. "You'll do yourself in if you don't sleep properly."

The conversation was so reminiscent of the one he'd had with Bilbo that Glóin had closed his eyes, unable to stare into the calm depths of the dark ones belonging to his elder brother.

* * *

Now they were safe from the roaring, fearsome bear outside, Glóin made haste to find somewhere to place Bilbo.

"Mahal above, is there only straw here to rest upon?" Óin wondered aloud.

"You stay here, Nori and I'll look for someplace better." Bofur offered, lightly dragging Nori by his sleeve.

Nori looked torn. Dori squeezed his shoulder. "Go on, _nadadel_. Óri and I will be here when you come back."

After Nori consented and left with Bofur, Óin absent-mindedly commented,"Don't think I've ever seen him so scared for you."

Dori shook his head. "My goodness. He's barely left our sides. When you think how he hates being crowded in his sleep, you'd never know it from this past week. It frightened him for certain."

"Frightened a lot of us." Glóin murmured, looking down at Bilbo.

"He'll wake soon enough," Gandalf rumbled. "I don't know when, but he will."

"Hmm."

Óin looked at his brother, furrowing his eyebrows. "You look exhausted." Before his sibling could interrupt, be added, "No, you _are_ exhausted. Place Bilbo and yourself on the straw and sleep."

"What?"

"Do I need to repeat myself? Rest, now!"

Giving Óin the most baleful look he could muster, Glóin did as he was asked, carefully placing himself away from Bilbo, though it pained him to do so. He would have liked to hold him in his arms during sleep, but was too afraid, fearing that he might cause further damage to him.

"You're a right bossy git when you put your mind to it." he grumbled.

"Well, being subtle never worked with you, you great fool."

Glóin simply snorted in response. His eyelids grew heavier and his body relaxed and soon he was sleeping as deeply as Bilbo did.

* * *

"Glóin!" Bofur called loudly.

"For feck's sake!" Óin hissed. "Shut up, you overloud dolt! What is it?"

Bofur looked gleeful. "Aw, look, he's having a..."

Óin glared him into silence.

"We only found one bed, but out looked slept-in. Straw isn't too bad, Óin." Nori said. He looked as tired as Glóin had.

Óin pointed him towards a clump of straw. "Rest. You too, Bofur."

"Sending us to bed like a couple of beardlings." Bofur muttered cheerfully.

"Bit of sleep wouldn't go amiss." Nori yawned. "Where's Óri?"

"He's with Balin." Dori answered.

"Mm. You should look for him." Nori stated, flopping next to Bofur. "Stay away from heights..." With this advice, he closed his eyes and curled next to Bofur's slumbering form.

* * *

Bilbo still didn't wake up the next day. His breathing seemed stronger, which pleased Óin and some of the marks on his chest were starting to fade.

Their host, Beorn the Skinchanger, seemed as worried as Glóin over Bilbo. Glóin even trusted the taller being to watch over Bilbo when he couldn't. He could see the look of concern in brown, solemn eyes and understood that Beorn meant to harm to his pundurith.

"He is not your child, and yet you love him as though he was." Beorn mused one afternoon.

Glóin eyed him. "Aye. What of it?"

"Perhaps Dwarves are not so cold and heartless after all."

Glóin simply raised an eyebrow and patted Bilbo's curls.

* * *

It was not Glóin who witnessed Bilbo first waking up properly.

In fact it was Fíli, who heard a murmur and had given such a shout it attracted the entire Company, Gandalf and Beorn to the room to see what the matter was.

Bilbo was terribly confused when he awoke. There was loud talking and Fíli was crying and gently hugging him, while Kíli clung to his hand and all the while Bilbo wondered where he was and how he'd gotten there and was everyone alright?

Eventually Fíli prised himself off their burglar and Kíli decided to let go of his hand. Óin lightly shoved them out of the way and looked at Bilbo's eyes, asking him simple questions, looking satisfied with the answers.

"Right," Óin said, using his sternest voice. "Clear off, the lot of you, I don't think he'd like you gawking any longer."

He wanted to check the markings again. When the last person had trailed out, he gently requested Bilbo to take off his shirt and then cast a scrutinising gaze over them.

Weren't too bad. Ribs had been broken on impact, but Bilbo had been lucky, ridiculously lucky.

He should have died from the blow.

"What in Mahal's name are we to do with you?" Óin wondered aloud.

"Nothing too bad, I hope." Bilbo tried to joke.

Óin scowled. "This is no laughing matter. You're lucky not to be dead!"

"But, he would have died!"

"He's a great idiot." Óin stated firmly. "He's also got a hide as thick as his head and he got hurt. Had the Eagles not arrived, you could've been killed. Glóin was all for killing Azog, I vow he would've attempted to kill him if they'd not-"

"Eagles?"

Óin looked at him severely. "I'll thank you not to interrupt. You absolute idiot, going after the Defiler! He's not got a name like that from being nice, my lad!"

Óin carefully lifted Bilbo's arm, assessing the deep scratches and bruising splashed across the creamy skin. He noticed the downcast expression and softened.

"Come now," he said, patting his knee. "I'm not angry with you. Can you move your legs?"

* * *

He was still tired and dozed off mid-examination. Óin decided against awakening him again and made certain nothing could hinder his breathing before rejoining his kin.

"He's sleeping again," Óin warned. "So, if you really must go in there, be quiet."

* * *

Sitting by his _pundurith's_ side, Glóin breathed a sigh of relief. Bilbo was no longer in the deep hold of unconsciousness, simply resting for now.

He brushed a hand over soft, light tresses, watching as Bilbo murmured at the touch.

His heart had just about stopped when the Orc-scum had slammed his mace Bilbo's way. Fortunately, he'd been quick to jump away, but the weapon hit its aim and had sent him spiralling across the ground.

Glóin had thought Bilbo dead.

He'd been positively enraged at the Orc's murder and had swung his ax threateningly at him when suddenly the Eagles decided to arrive and had flown them off to the isolated Carrock, where Thorin had awoken and Bilbo had not, though Gandalf had done all he could.

Now, he finally had! Glóin reached for one of his small hands, holding it between his own. His tiny fingers clasped around his guardian's and slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

"You're alright." Bilbo whispered.

"Can you move?" Glóin asked. "You did some damage to your ribs."

Bilbo carefully pulled himself up, accepting Glóin's arm to lean on. Glóin waited 'til he was sitting more or less upright before gently taking hold of him and lifting him onto his knees, carefully enveloping him.

'He is very much alive,' Glóin told himself. 'Stop your worrying!'

"What possessed you to take him on?" he asked.

"He would've killed Thorin."

"And he would've killed you too. By Mahal, we thought you were dead at one point! You went for him twice. What happened the second time?"

"He was coming for you," Bilbo quietly explained.

Glóin grew cold. For him? Bilbo had... Of all the foolishness!

"Bilbo, it is my job to protect you. You should've told me he was there."

"But, when Thorin went against him... It didn't end well."

"Nonetheless, you are small, you aren't as tough as we are and, forgive me, you aren't exactly skilled with your sword."

"I could hardly let Thorin get beheaded and I wasn't going to lose another person just so they could save me." Bilbo stated.

Glóin gently rubbed his back. "Someone else?" he enquired.

Bilbo leaned against Glóin's chest, sighing softly. "I never did tell you how my father died, did I?"

"No, but you don't have to, if you don't want to.."

"He died, saving me from wolves. They attacked the Shire three years ago. That was when I saw Orcs for the first time." Bilbo cleared his throat. "I'm not entirely convinced it was just the wolves who killed him."

Glóin stopped his actions and drew Bilbo back into his arms.

"I'm sorry, laddie."

Bilbo buried his head in Glóin's shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. Glóin allowed him his solitude, waiting 'til Bilbo felt safe enough to move his head before speaking.

"You have great courage, _pundurith._" he murmured. "We are proud." Bilbo's large eyes were wide and almost disbelieving. "We are," Glóin confirmed, "but never ever put yourself in trouble like that again, do you understand me?"

Bilbo nodded and relaxed into his guardian's arms.

* * *

He got better surprisingly quickly. Glóin barely left his side, except when requested, or as he called it, 'nagged', to by Óin.

Bilbo felt perfectly alright after several days.

Unfortunately Óin didn't agree.

"But I'm fine!"

Óin fixed a pair of onyx-black eyes on Bilbo. "You are healing, my lad. Stay where you are."

Letting out a sigh, Bilbo looked up at the healer who was turning out to be much more of a mother hen than his brother, a thing Bilbo had not thought possible. "Óin, I feel just fine!"

Óin rolled his eyes.

"You haven't gone deaf in the other ear have you?"

Óin gave him a steely look. "You wouldn't mock," he said, "a blind man on his lack of seeing."

He'd already felt guilty, but Óin's well-hidden, but visible hurt horrified Bilbo. "Óin, I'm sorry, I didn't.."

Knowing his chastising words had worked, Óin moved to place a hand on the hobbit's curls. "I know that. Mind what you say in future."  
He didn't believe in the whole formal "I forgive you" thing Glóin and Gróin loved using so much. If he was still annoyed with someone, he just didn't talk to them.  
Which made his lack of hearing useful indeed.

Nobody ever said _he_ had to take his own advice.

Of course no one had thought to tell the halfling that, leaving Óin to bat away eight apologies before figuring out Bilbo was under the impression he'd not been forgiven his quip.  
Óin was really going to have to kill Glóin for forgetting to tell Bilbo. It took a good half hour to reassure him everything was fine and another half hour to explain it all.

"Little brothers a blessing!" Óin thought, gently pressing his forehead to Bilbo's. "They're no-good buggers and that's their extent!"

* * *

**Ah, I couldn't resist having Bilbo wake up in _this_ chapter! **

**I do hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	19. Growing Roots

Holding the thin, wooden stem of his pipe between his lips, Bilbo leaned on one elbow as he lay in his makeshift bed of golden straw.  
Óin would kill him if he saw the way he held himself, but at the moment, Bilbo couldn't get comfortable any other way, so risked it for the time being.

"You're not thinking of lighting a match where _straw_ is, are you?" Glóin's voice travelled.

Bilbo shook his head. "No. Just miss smoking."

Glóin made his way to Bilbo, sitting beside him. "Tell you what, _if_ he consents, I'll try and get you outside today."

Bilbo looked hopeful. Glóin carefully turned him onto his back, murmuring, "He'd have your hide if he saw you lying like that, my lad."

"I know," Bilbo sighed. "But it gets uncomfortable after a while, you see."

"Aye. He did say you were getting bored with it."

Bilbo flickered a startled glance toward his guardian. "I.. I wasn't very polite to him earlier..."

Lying a hand on Bilbo's forearm, Glóin nodded. "No, you were not." he paused. Truthfully, he'd said similar things to his brother when kept figuratively chained to his bed during illness and hurt, so he didn't wish to tell Bilbo he'd never said anything like that to Óin. "He knows best about injuries and the like," Glóin stated, echoing words that Gróin had once said, long ago. "And, though he never says it, he misses being able to hear. Never say anything like that to him again."

"I won't." Bilbo quietly vowed. "I am sorry I said it."

"I know. He's forgiven you. So he made clear not so long ago."

"Are _you_ angry?" The question made Bilbo wish to roll his eyes at himself. It was the sort of question that twelve-year-old Fauntlings asked!

"No. I was never angry. I just needed you to understand." Glóin answered.

* * *

"Have you gone to see Bilbo yet?" Fíli questioned his limping uncle.

"Not yet."

"I begin to doubt you ever will," Fíli said, crossing his arms and narrowing his own blue eyes at Thorin.

"I will!" Thorin replied, giving Fíli an equally unimpressed look.

"What's been stopping you all this time? Six hours, he's been awake!"

"Remember that story I told you about first day I watched over your mother? She ended up falling over her own feet and split her lip open.."

"Yes, I do."

"Remember I told you I couldn't face her because I'd allowed her to get hurt?"

"I also remember she whacked you over the head for being an idiot." Fíli said. "You didn't intend for either to get hurt!"

"How can I face the person who protected me and saved my life after all that's happened?" Thorin softly asked.

"Just apologise to him." Fíli suggested. "He cares for you, I'm sure he'll forgive."

At Fíli's insistent stare, Thorin nodded and headed towards where his burglar lay

* * *

Bilbo was sleeping again by the time Thorin made his way over to see him. Curled up by Glóin's side, he looked as though he was completely at peace, Thorin paused, considering turning back 'til Glóin spoke.

"Speak to him when he awakens."

"Glóin, I..."

"Wait with him."

Glóin sounded cold. Little wonder. Frankly, Thorin was astonished his head was still attached to his shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

Glóin raised an eyebrow, but didn't take his eyes off Bilbo's slumbering form. "He's asleep. Wait 'til he wakes."

"It's my fault that he got hurt and I regret it."

For the first time since he'd acknowledged his cousin's presence, Glóin met his black eyes with Thorin's blue.

"Do you trust him now?"

"I do, yes."

"Good."

"Do you not forgive me?"

"What have _I_ to forgive _you_ for?" Glóin asked, though he knew very well what Thorin meant.

"Not remembering that it's not blood that makes a family. That my fury got the better of me and that he got _hurt_ trying to protect someone who'd mistreated him through the journey thus far." Thorin answered.

"He didn't fall because he tried to save just _one_," Glóin murmured.

"Who else?"

Glóin grimaced and returned his attention to Bilbo.

* * *

When Bilbo first awoke, it was to the knowledge that a pair of eyes, black as night, were gazing down at him.

"Sorry," he yawned. "I meant to stay awake."

"No matter," Glóin said. "D'you want to see Thorin, _pundurith_?"

"He's alright?"

"He's fine, just like we told you." Glóin reassured him.

"I.. Yes, I suppose I wouldn't mind."

Stepping back from Bilbo, Glóin moved to allow Thorin to see him, though he kept a sharp eye on the back of his cousin's head.

"You could have been killed!"

At that moment, Bilbo had to fight to avoid rolling his eyes. If he was told that one more time, he didn't know what he'd do.  
He doubted Glóin would be pleased if he kicked Thorin in the shin.

"By Mahal! I believed bringing you along would be pointless, leading to nothing but wasted time and little progress," Thorin muttered.

Bilbo folded his arms and gave Thorin what he hoped was an intimidating look.

"I was wrong to believe this. I was wrong to doubt you," Thorin said, kneeling beside him and placing a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. "I have never been so wrong. I'm sorry, my burglar."

"It's alright," Bilbo assured him. "Little wonder there was doubt!"

There was relief in Thorin's crystal-blue eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "I'm glad you're well."

"How far are we from the Mountain?" Bilbo asked, suddenly recalling their time limit.

"We're closer than we were." Thorin told him. "Now is the time for resting and recovering. We make plans in several days." he stood, looking at Bilbo in a softer way than he had before. "I'd best go to meet Dwalin. I'll see you later."

"Are you alright?" Glóin asked, noticing Bilbo's frown as Thorin left.

"Yes, just... Did you all see the Lonely Mountain?"

Glóin nodded ." We caught a glimpse of it, yes."

"What's the Mountain like inside?"

Glóin heaved a small sigh. "I wouldn't know personally. I was born thirteen years after Erebor fell."

"Oh."

"Our da used to tell us, though. I can retell his tales, though it likely won't be as good as his."

"Are you sure?"

Glóin moved to sit by Bilbo again. "Mm. Well, it's bigger on the inside. The rock is carved out to make room for people to live in. It's not a dark, damp mountain, though some believe it is. No, the Lonely Mountain is bright and warm with fire and reflected light of jewels and metals.  
It's huge, as can be imagined. So large, and there's so many places to go in it that few have ever seen every inch of it. Every place you visit has a chance of making a new discovery.  
High up, there's a place for ravens and other messaging birds to live. You go up there and their sweet song greets you the moment you feel the air on your skin. You can see for miles so high up. You can see forestland, the great Lake, shining like a flat carpet of blue and silver." Glóin stopped, remembering the wistful gleam that had been in his father's eyes as he'd recanted this tale. "He always used to say," he said, "that the Mountain truly wasn't lonely at all because so many loved it and lived in it."

"People will live in it again, someday."

Glóin smiled, carefully tucking a curl behind Bilbo's ear. "Mmm. Are your stitches hurting you still?"

"No, they're fine."

"Good."

Glóin patted his shoulder and stood again. "I'll see where Óin's to, then. See you in a little while, my _pundurith_."

* * *

It took a while, but Óin eventually grumbled his consent and warned his younger brother to watch Bilbo like a hawk if he really _had_ to take him outside.  
When Glóin returned, it was to bump into Fíli and Kíli, both of whom were wearing suspiciously cheery grins on their youthful faces.

"What are you smiling about?" Glóin asked wearily.

He didn't mean to doubt, but really, after all the trouble they'd managed to drag Gimli into, he felt perfectly justified.

"No harm in a smile every now and then." Kíli said, his dimpled grin still fixed on his face.

"Wouldn't kill you to smile every now and then either." Fíli teased, grinning wider as Glóin glared at him.

"We just brought him some flowers to look at, that's all." Kíli explained.

"Thought he'd like them, because he's been indoors for so long-"

"And they really are beautiful."

"We know he likes flowers. And he was happy when he got them."

"Even told us what they meant."

They left, murmuring something about Bofur and "going to be hilarious", which Glóin swiftly decided he didn't need to know the full details of.

Walking in, he was both pleased and astounded. Pleased because Bilbo didn't look any worse for having the two excitable heirs of Durin accompanying him and astounded, because _Aüle_, how many flowers were there?!

An unbidden image of Fíli and Kíli running about with armfuls of flowers came into his head and he snorted at the thought.

Little made sense anymore.

"What are you up to?"

"Fíli and Kíli hurled these at me. I suppose they found it most amusing when I woke myself up with a sneeze."

Glóin chuckled. "I don't think they meant harm."

They never did, in truth. They just had the best talent for finding trouble to get in.

"Sit with me?" Bilbo requested.

Glóin did, tucking an arm 'round his tense shoulders. "Are you making something, laddie?"

"I'm trying to make a chain. There's a way you can do it that it sits like a bouquet, but stays linked together through its stems. My mother knew how to do it better than anyone."

"Even you?"

Bilbo laughed. "Payback for what I said about your tinderboxes?"

"Perhaps."

Bilbo snickered and then sighed at his attempts. "Oh, _curse_ this! I'll make a normal chain instead."

"You give up too easily."

"_You'd_ tear it to bits!"

"I would _not_ and I resent the implication!"

Bilbo smiled softly. "I meant no offence."

"I know, my lad."

Bilbo deftly tied one thin, dark green stem to the other and shrugged Glóin's arm off his shoulder before taking hold of his forearm and draping the chain over his guardian's wrist, seemingly measuring it.

"What's going on here?" Glóin asked.

"It's a Shire tradition." Bilbo answered, linking the ends together and beaming proudly at his creation. "Do you like it?"

Glóin had no choice. True, it was highly unDwarvish to wear flowers, but he was utterly defenceless against the hope in those emerald-green eyes.

"It's very pretty. Thank you." he eventually answered. He wasn't lying. There were two flowers with five petals which were white with a bright yellow middle. Another three were pink, delicate and soft. At the top was a pale green plant, secured in place by entwining stems

"Wonderful. Did you find Óin?"

"I did, yes. He took an age, but agreed after a while."

"Can we go now, please?"

Taking his eyes off his new accessory, Glóin nodded. "Sounds like a good enough idea."

* * *

**'T'is not just Shire traditions that we shall be seeing ;) I have something special planned for next chapter!**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	20. Family Ties

The first trip outside went without a hitch and Óin begrudgingly admitted that perhaps it would be alright for Bilbo to move around more. It made the hobbit happy, which meant his going outside concerned Glóin very little.

Until now.

He was a patient Dwarf. He had told the same bedtime tales to Gimli thousands of times. He'd fixed the wobbly leg on the dining room table more times than he liked to admit and he prided himself on his ability to put up with annoying people for hours on end without losing his temper.

But this. This would _not_ do.

It started the day Bilbo had gone outdoors for the first time. Their host had took am immediate interest to his littlest guest and the next day, decided to take him on a tour around his fields.

Then the affectionate pats on the head and the nicknames started.

_'That's just what he likes to do,' _Glóin thought. '_He's a decent fellow, and it's not like he'll decide he wants to keep Bilbo with him.'_

So, with this mantra in mind, he put up with Beorn's affectionate actions, telling himself that Beorn was, at least, friendly to Bilbo.

* * *

"Where's that lad gone off to now?" Glóin wondered to himself three days after Beorn's noticing of Bilbo.

"Saw him with the skinchanger not so long ago." Bombur informed him.

"Hmph."

Óin gave him a knowing look. "Now then. He may have taken a liking to your lad, but it's not as though he's off... Braiding Bilbo's hair and what-have-you."

Glóin grunted in response and crossed his arms. Turning to Óin, he said, "Sooner we're away from him, the better. I don't like it."

"We'll be off soon, _nadad_. I see Bilbo's shadow now, so wipe that frown off your face. He'll die of fright, I shouldn't wonder."

"_You_ look a hundred tines more frightening when you _are _smiling." Glóin retorted, earning a snort of amusement from his brother.

He turned to face Bilbo.

And stared.

"Beorn, um.. found some flowers.." Bilbo quietly explained, pointing at his head which now were not crowned in their coppery-golden curls, but were now crowned in bright, small plants.

_Beorn had crossed a line. _

"Óin," Glóin murmured, still taken aback by what he'd just seen. "Would you mind helping Bilbo take... _those_ off his head?"

At Óin's mumble of agreement, Glóin beckoned Bombur over.

"Go and find whoever you can and tell them to wait outside." he whispered. Glancing back to Óin who was carefully picking the flowers our of the back of Bilbo's head, he deftly signed with his hands, requesting that when he was finished to find them, but without Bilbo.

At Óin's nod of comprehension, he followed Bombur to find his kin.

* * *

"Why are we here?" Óri questioned.

"Master Beorn put flowers in Bilbo's hair." Bombur revealed.

"Yes," said Glóin. "And he did so by fiddling about with his hair!"

"He _didn't_!" Dwalin protested. "Surely he didn't."

"He did indeed." Óin told his cousin. "And it was a bugger to undo, I can tell you!"

"Do you want us to decapitate him while he sleeps?"

"No. Well, not yet. I'd like to give Bilbo a family braid. Marking him as a member of our family."

"Why are we here to only hear that?" Nori asked.

"I want to know what you all think."

"I approve!"

"I do, too!"

"I don't think," Balin said, cutting through the calls of agreement. "That you will find anyone who disagrees. We like him. Neoma will love him."

"I know, but I have a favour to ask. You all know what this braid means. _He_ doesn't have a blessed _clue_."

"I'll teach him." Balin volunteered. "I taught Dwalin by telling the story of my first braid."

"I appreciate it, cousin."

Balin gave a twinkly smile and took a step forward. "Would you like me to tell him now?"

"That'd be good, I can give it to him after dinner. But don't tell him what's going to happen!"

* * *

After ten minutes of fruitless searching, Balin found Bilbo leafing through a book on herbs.

"You alright, laddie?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. I'm fine,thank you." Bilbo placed the book down and got to his feet. "And you?"

"I am well, thank you. I hear you had a lot of new hair accessories today."

Bilbo laughed. "Oh, I did. Master Beorn thought it looked sweet. I rather believed Glóin would kill him when he first saw."

"Dwarves value hair. We braid it, you know."

"I always did wonder about braids."

"They're given to us by the most special people in our lives," Balin told him. "The first braid is given to us by our parents. One from our father, one from our mother."

"Do you have one?"

"Yes." Balin turned his head and lightly pushed back a segment of snow-white hair, giving Bilbo a glimpse of twin braids, thin and secured with a tiny silvery bead keeping them closed. "Well, two really. I remember my father gave this really long speech, most of which went over my head, I'm sorry to say."

"What did he say?"

"The same things all fathers tell their children. That they are heaven-blessed and have brought great pride and joy. Children are very precious to us, Bilbo. No matter their age, no matter what they are, we adore our children."

"You seem to all be excellent parents."

Balin chuckled. "We try. Come, let's see where the others have gone, shall we?"

* * *

Glóin had never been so nervous. Sitting at the high table, he kept snatching glances at Bilbo and then away as though looking too long would reveal his intentions.  
Ridiculous. He wasn't planning on any wrongdoing! Yet, he felt hot and clammy and vaguely trembled at the thought.

_What the hell was he going to say?!_

Óin must have noticed, for he quietly whispered in his brother's ear.

"No point in panicking, lad. You did well the first time, you'll do well now."

"Will you be with me?"

"Yes. Someone needs to ensure you don't blow it."

At this, Glóin near-choked on air. He threw a mild curse word his brother's way and reached for his mug, sipping the sweet liquid and refusing to meet his sibling's eye for fear of laughing again.

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asked, eyes wide in concern.

"I'm fine, my _pundurith_. Don't worry."

Óin chortled to himself and squeezed his brother's shoulder.

* * *

Instead of going back to the sleeping quarters, Glóin took Bilbo's elbow and ensured Óin was still with them and went to find somewhere with no prying eyes where he could carry his task out in peace.

Óin had been jesting (he hoped). They both knew that as the eldest of Gróin's line, he had to be present for the ceremony.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll know soon."

"Can I know now?"

Glóin snorted and moved his arm to link it through Bilbo's, having spotted an empty room at long last.

* * *

There were boxes and barrels littering the room. Good. He could get Bilbo to sit if he accepted the offer of family.

"Why are we here?" Bilbo wanted to know.

Óin very deliberately removed his ear horn and looked the other way, allowing his brother some form of privacy while Glóin made shaky eye contact with Bilbo.

"I care very deeply for you," he awkwardly began. "You know that I see you as my own child. I would like you become a part of our family through Dwarven rites if you are willing."

"You wish to have me as a member of your family?"

"I wish to have you as my son. I know you have your own father and that you love him, but if you wish, I'm here."

Bilbo was silent, his brow creased. Glóin knew it wouldn't be an easy decision and patted his shoulder. It had been a premature assumption to think they might get the braid done tonight.

"I'll be in the quarters if you need me."

Softly knocking Óin's shoulder, he exited the room, leaving Bilbo to his thoughts.

* * *

Bilbo left the room as soon as he could, needing to feel cool, refreshing air to clear his head.

He found a rock by the river and sat, hugging himself tightly.

It was one thing to have an informal relationship, but he knew what Glóin intended, he knew why and it felt so disloyal to Bungo!  
Yes,, he'd been dead for a good six years, but he had been his father. It was an awful idea to move on from him. Yet...

He felt safe, loved, wanted with Glóin. The warmth and care that had once emanated from Bungo now came from this Dwarf. He wanted to say 'yes'. But how could he?

"You look _so_ happy." Nori's deadpan voice trailed. "Care to share?"

"Not particularly."

"Tough." Nori sat by him without invitation. "Tell me what happened."

"Well.. The thing is. He- Oh, you wouldn't understand!"

"Try me."

Bilbo sighed."Alright. My own papa died over half a decade ago. And... well..."

"_Someone_ wants you in their family."

"Yes."

"You don't want to..?"

"I do!" Bilbo declared. "It's just, it feels disloyal to him."

"Bilbo. If your dad was here right now, what would he say?"

"He'd say 'I blame your mother for this!'"

Nori snickered. "Be serious. What would he think?"

"Well, I imagine he'd be glad I had someone who cared. He'd probably tell me to say yes to the... thing."

"Presumably, this Dwarf loves you like you're his lad. Do you love _him_ like he's your dad?"

"I do." Bilbo admitted.

"So. He loves you. You love him. You know now that your father, Mahal rest him, would gladly give his consent. What's the problem?"

"There isn't one."

"Well then!" Nori looked highly pleased. "I suppose you'd better go find your Dwarrow."

Bilbo smiled discreetly and stood, turning away.

"Oy!"

Attention freshly caught, Bilbo turned his head. "Yes?"

"Welcome to the family."

* * *

**Did you like this chapter? I did my best :)**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	21. Of Fathers and Sons

Finding Glóin was an easy task if one knew him well enough.  
Bilbo searched around outside, trying to find him, then going back to where he'd last seen Glóin and Óin, but was forced to give up, realising that his guardian was nowhere.

Making his way to their sleeping quarters, he peered at each bundle of straw, sighing as each one revealed itself to be empty. As he drew closer to his, he prodded at it with his foot as though Glóin was hiding inside it.

Of course he wasn't, but the action gave a sudden CLANK! moments before a shining, silver object came into view. Crouching, he pulled it out, sharply inhaling once he discovered what it was.

His sword.

No longer covered in the sticky, thick blackness of the blood of Goblin, Orc and Warg, it shone brightly as ever while its current owner set his jaw and trembled, remembering how he'd stabbed, sliced, wounded and killed creatures with it.

It seemed to burn him and he flung the weapon away, the blade making a loud clattering.  
His legs were turning shaky and weak. He didn't want to fall and tried to remain standing, but his legs won the battle, taking him to the wooden floor.

"Laddie? Are you alright?"

Strong hands carefully gripped his shoulders. Bilbo shivered and his guardian knelt beside him, and lurched forward, grabbing onto him as though afraid Glóin could and would disappear into thin air. He was distantly aware of something rubbing his back, of a gruff voice murmuring something to him, but paid no heed to this, preferring to bury his face in the Dwarf's shoulder, auburn hairs lightly tickling his jawline and cheeks.

"Is it wrong to kill other creatures?" he eventually whispered, pulling back.

"If they were trying to kill or harm you, no it isn't."

"But they were living creatures."

"They weren't good, were they?"

"Well, no, but shouldn't... I shouldn't.." Bilbo paused. He didn't know how he could relay his feelings to Glóin and sighed softly.

"Your first killing?" Glóin asked in a gentle tone.

"Yes." Bilbo whispered.

"What do you feel?"

"Shame and.. guilt." Bilbo answered.

"That's normal," Glóin assured him. "But you have to know: You're _not_ like them, killing for the sake of it. You did what you did out of self-defence and loyalty."

Bilbo shook his head and shuffled closer. "When you first.. um..."

"When I first killed?"

"Yes. Did you feel like this?"

"Everybody does. It's natural to feel like how you feel afterwards."

"Were you very young?"

Glóin stilled, removing an arm to reach around and rub at the crown of his head. "Yes," he answered after some time. "I was a bit young."

"How old?" Bilbo wanted to know.

"I was.. I was sixteen years old, if you must know."

"Sixteen?" Bilbo's eyes were wide, as Gimli's had been when he'd been told the tale. "But that's very young! Why did they let you?"

"They didn't. I went with Óin and our father, only because I told them I'd help Óin with the less injured. The minute he turned his back, off I went."  
Glóin stopped his tale for a moment, recollecting his memories. "You've heard of this battle before," he told Bilbo. "The Battle of Moria, Ananulbizar, in our tongue.  
It was a very loud environment. No place for one as young as I, though I wasn't the only young one. There was no stopping with the attacks. Flashes of silver, steel and other dark metals whirred around, accompanied by ringing clashes and the unearthly howls of the dying ones.  
I didn't know where I was going. There I was, barely growing stubble, smaller than you, with only an old miner's ax for protection. My poor father, Mahal rest him, likely thought he was going mad when he first saw me."

"What did he say?"

"I'm not repeating those words to you." Glóin told him firmly. "He wasn't pleased to say the least of it.  
We discussed the situation as we fought. Our uncle, Fundin, was bellowing at my father and I to stop chattering and watch what we were doing instead. We didn't.  
I don't know what happened. One minute I was aiming at an Orc, next thing I knew, Óin was there and I was staring up at canvas."

"Your father?"

"He was looking for Fundin. Our uncle fought bravely and well, but didn't survive the battle." Glóin inhaled slowly. "I'll never forget it. Our father came in, sat with us and said, 'You are one of the rare few who haven't lost a brother today.'"

"That's awful."

"It is. He wouldn't let himself sleep for fear of what he would see in his dreams."

"What about you?"

"Had the worst nightmares you could imagine." Glóin replied. "I'd wake up, convinced everyone was dead, convinced I was dead and worse.  
I'd been far too young for war. It was my own fault I had those dreams. Didn't stop my father from staying with me through it."

"Parents protect and care for their children." Bilbo murmured.

"They do," Glóin agreed, curling his free arm back around Bilbo.

"What did you call your father?" Bilbo asked.

"Hmm? What d'you mean, laddie?"

"I called my father my 'papa'. What did you call yours?"

"Adad. That's what we Dwarves call our fathers."

Bilbo shuffled a tad, trying to discover the right words. "Would you mind terribly if I called you Adad?"

Glóin moved his head, lightly knocking his jaw against Bilbo's forehead. "You've decided already?"

There was such surprise in his tone that Bilbo nearly laughed. "Yes, I have."

"I told you I'd sort it, didn't I?"

Óin gave Nori a steely look. "Less they know about it, the better," he warned. "Why'd you help, anyway?"

"Well, who knows how long it would have taken?" Nori replied. "He's got less patience than you, even."

Óin sputtered in indignation. "Of course I have patience!" he said crossly. "When you were little and had broken bones and refused to stop wriggling about, I never lost my temper."

Nori grinned in reminiscence. "Hey. Speak of the devil."

Bilbo, Óin noticed, had something different about him. The right side of his head, where his curls spiralled up and down, looked subdued. The halfling turned his head, revealing a gleam of silver. So. Nori's influence had paid off.

"Add yours in." Glóin suggested, gently pushing Bilbo towards Óin. "Not too long, though."

Bilbo's hair was short, but it was near his shoulders, courtesy of the long months spent without scissors. Still, the longest tresses had more or less been used up, making Óin glare at his stoic sibling.

"Aye, that's right, leave the hardest bit to me!"

Bifur, who had been watching with solemn eyes, suddenly grinned and went to whisper something in Óin's ear.  
Whatever he said, it was too quiet for the healer's brother to know, but it made Óin twist his head and give Bifur a look of stunned disbelief.

"You cheeky..."

Bifur's grin only widened and he wandered away, lightly chortling to himself as he did so.

Óin muttered something inaudible and ignored repeated requests for knowledge of what Bifur had told him.

* * *

**Bifur is so mischievous! Well, I don't know if I can update next week. I'll certainly _try_, but _if_ I can't, it's going to be a couple of weeks before I actually _can_, because I'm going abroad for the summer holidays :)**

**Many thanks to Mira, who helped a lot with this chapter. Couldn't have done it without you, my friend!**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	22. Clashes of Metal

Having Glóin as a father was really no different to having him as a guardian.

Well. The hugs were more frequent, but that was about as far as it was.

Dwalin seemed to find it amusing when Bilbo mentioned it to him. Since the braiding and Bilbo's rescue of Thorin, he'd warmed greatly to the smaller creature, even to the point of flashing a smile when he saw him coming.

"I thought you might find that," the taller Dwarf said, smiling softly downwards. "No, he's always treated you as his own, from what I've seen."

"Are all Dwarves like him?"

Dwalin thought, before slowly shaking his head. "Hmm, not exactly."

"What d'you mean?"

"You get some - rarely, mind - who are scum toward those left in their care. Treat 'em like slaves, hurt 'em... just generally nasty folk. Luckily, it hardly ever happens."

"And Glóin's not like that."

Dwalin shook his head. "No, not him." he patted Bilbo's shoulder and made to turn. "I'm visiting Thorin to see if he's up for any training. Don't stay alone too long, alright?"

"I'll come inside with you," Bilbo offered. "I'll never understand how he wants to fight barely a week after being half-eaten..."

Dwalin simply huffed a laugh in reply.

* * *

Watching his cousin disappear into the room that held Thorin, Glóin looked toward where Bilbo moved to where Dori sat on a stool, fixing a pair of woollen mittens.

Dwalin had been talking about getting Thorin to fight rather a lot. Giving stares and glances Glóin's way in a very pointed manner.

Glóin knew exactly why. In a short number of days, perhaps six, if they were fortunate, they would be going into the old forest which was filled with evil creatures, cursed waters and Elves among other equally vile and dangerous things.

Bilbo needed to know how to fight. As adad to him, it was Glóin's responsibility to see to it that Bilbo could defend himself. They couldn't stay here forever and time was already running short.  
Though he dearly hoped he could always be there to protect Bilbo, he knew that there would, one day, come a time when Bilbo would have to fight alone.

"Getting all misty-eyed, are we?"

"Piss off, Bofur."

"That is right charming, 'specially with my cousin being so close to your brother."

Glóin shot him a sharp look which was ignored with Bofur choosing to give him a particularly happy smile.

"Aye. I've seen that exact look before." Bofur said, nodding so the flaps of his hat trembled. "Moments before you marched your firstborn off to the training halls to visit his second cousin, who, about now, is likely using his most petrifying stare to get Thorin to play outside with him."

"It's not playing, it's fighting, you fool." Glóin corrected. "And we have no training halls. Master Beorn requested us to keep it outside after what you and Fíli did while messing about two days ago."

"Don't you start with it, now. I had Bifur shouting about it all day. So. What's the plan for getting our hobbit battle-worthy?"

"Bilbo's going to hate me by the end of it."

"Ah, he won't! Even if he does get annoyed, he'll forget all about his annoyance soon enough. Go on and get it going."

Glóin nodded and glanced at Bofur. "Aye, you're right, I suppose. See you later."

He missed the fact that Bofur's eyes held a mischievous glint.

* * *

First things first. Weapon.

Bilbo paled upon seeing the sword again. "Gl- Adad, I can't."

"You can. Just hold it in your hands."

"But.."

"You mustn't fear the dagger. The weapon is a protector, a loyal friend. It won't harm you, but you must know how to fight with it."

Holding out quivering hands, Bilbo accepted the sword, though he gave it a very unhappy look as he did so.

"Tie it into your belt like I showed you. That's it."  
In truth the belt, if it could be called such a thing, was only a mere strip of leather that had taken a good hour to teach Bilbo to master. Glóin only hoped that the fighting would be easier for him.

"Must I learn to swordfight?"

Glóin squeezed his shoulder. "Yes, you must. It's best you learn what you can while you can."

* * *

Glóin was going to murder Bofur.

Looking at them with That Look on his dimpled face. He could vaguely recall a time when Bofur had been innocent and sweet. Oh, he missed those days.

"Don't mind if I overlook, do you?"

Hmm. Glóin nodded his consent after a while, but Bilbo was too occupied with the dagger he bore.

Reaching to grasp one of his knives which was kept safely inside his coat (unless Nori decided to 'borrow' it), he unsheathed it and cleared his throat to gain Bilbo's attention.

"The knife I have is close in size to yours," he explained. "So you should be able to block hits at least."

Glóin assumed so, anyway. Any fool could deflect a hit, right?

* * *

No. No, they could not. Glóin had lost count of the amount of times he'd told Bilbo that they would have to start again. He held his weapon properly, but when the sword got hit, he kept dropping it.

It was enough to drive a Dwarf mad. Bofur's well-meaning calls of encouragement (to whom they were directed, Glóin didn't know) weren't helping either.

"Gló- Adad, I can't do this." Bilbo panted, leaning upon the handle of his sword.

"You certainly can!" Glóin retorted. "And be careful with your feet, laddie. Come, we'll have another go at it."

A voice behind Bofur made him jump, grinning from ear-to-ear when he turned to see Nori peering rather curiously at the practising duo in the foreground.

"What's this?"

"Glóin," Bofur giggled, "is teaching Bilbo to swordfight."

Nori's olive-green eyes widened in horror. "And you're _letting_ him?"

"Aye."

"You're bloody evil," Nori declared. "Budge over, so I can watch."

"Poor thing keeps dropping his blade."

"Everyone's fumbly with their first lesson." Nori said.

Bilbo was warily eyeing where Bofur was. Glancing over, Glóin could hardly blame him. Nori fancied himself something of a comedian at the best of times, and this was the worst. Particularly with Bofur close by and still smiling so hard his eyes crinkled.

"Here, Glóin! Your overgrown cousin and His Royal Highness will be here in a bit. Saw Dwalin dragging him from his map a minute ago." Nori called.

"Hmm. Alright, laddie. We'll have another go or two and that's that 'til tomorrow. Keep a tight grip." Glóin instructed.

Dwalin and Thorin often wound up chasing each other during their mock-battles. Swinging their swords around, blind and deaf to everything else around them... It was no place for a young hobbit.

"I already had it in a tighter grip," Bilbo murmured.

"Hold tighter if you can." Glóin instructed.

Once again, metal clanged together. Once again, the Elven blade swung onto the plushy green grass.

Glóin fought a sigh. "Pick it up, we'll try again."

Hoping that this would finally be the last attempt for the day, Bilbo lifted the sword and gripped it so fiercely that his knuckles turned white and he could feel the lines in the hilt digging into his palms, making him wince.

And swore colourfully when the blasted weapon became airborne once more.

To be quite frank, Glóin hadn't expected to hear words like that from Bilbo. Any of the others, barring the Wizard and Skinchanger, but certainly not the hobbit.

Out of the mouths of babes indeed!

"Who taught you those?" Glóin demanded.

"My mama taught me." Bilbo answered, snatching his sword up again. "Don't look like that! She didn't mean to. It was Yule and she'd drunk too much ale."

"I never want to hear you saying those words again," Glóin told him. "Right then. We'd best go in before those two come along and slice our heads off."

Bilbo sheathed his sword, looking woeful. Glóin gently traced the hobbit's braid.

"Don't fret now. There's always tomorrow."

* * *

Bilbo was rather subdued for the remainder of the evening, which meant that he was, indeed, fretting.

After nearly an hour of the little crease between the halfling's eyebrows deepening, as he rested on the straw and gazed into the distance, Glóin had enough of it.

"Hey," he lightly touched his shoulder. "What's wrong, my laddie?"

"I didn't do very well, did I?"

"Now then, _pundurith_. It wasn't _too_ bad. You blocked well enough. You just need to keep your grip."

"I can't look at it the way I used to. I know where it's been, what it did. What I did."

Glóin carefully pulled Bilbo closer to his side, securing him with his arm. "Need we have the discussion again?"

"No, it's just... I don't know, I just feel numb in my arms when I hold it."

"Well, you can look at it as something that took lives, or you can look at it as the blade which saved the lives of you and Thorin."

"And you."

Glóin hid a grimace, but rubbed Bilbo's shoulder and nodded. "Yes."

Bilbo didn't say anything, but he looked less daunted and more cheered than he had. He relaxed, and as the Dwarf's other arm came up to envelop him, he lay his chin on the sturdy shoulder and breathed freely for the first time since that ill-fated lesson.

* * *

**I managed it! I have a deadline on Sunday to get a new one up, but don't worry if not, because it'll be back to normal in a month's time, hopefully!**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	23. Family

It was nightfall by the time Dwalin and Thorin returned to the Company, rumpled with twigs and leaves sticking from their hair.

Óin eyed his two cousins with a knowing gaze. "What have you done to yourselves?"

Dwalin looked distinctly sheepish as he mumbled something about "Thorin" and "Prickly bush".

Óin muttered a bad word. "You are the biggest pair of dolts I ever did meet! Wrestling about like a pair of overgrown beardlings."

"We do not 'wrestle'. We fight." Thorin corrected.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" the healer asked, ignoring his king's words.

"I think Thorin broke my shin."

"If you can stand right, nothing is broken." Óin said, with the air of a Dwarf who'd talked too often about this kind of thing.

A shadow fell before a gravelly voice rumbled. "Would you like to come for your dinner or can I have it to myself?"

Lost in the crowd from his new adad, Bilbo was stopped by Beorn suddenly dropping to his knees and beaming at him. "So little!"

Oh, Gods. Bilbo hated this. He was aware of his tinyness, he hardly needed reminding, not with thirteen Dwarves who were all at least a few inches taller than he was.  
Still, the skinchanger was a kindly person and he meant well. Bilbo turned his head to avoid his braid becoming damaged as a colossal paw ruffled his hair and waited for Beorn to stand again before walking on.

* * *

The taller being watched Bilbo for quite some time and then began chuckling to himself. "I have decided what animal you are most like."

"A cat," Kíli said.

"Close enough, but no." Beorn said. "It is a rabbit he is most like."

"You clearly haven't seen him with sharp objects." Fíli told him, glancing at the hobbit while he spoke.

"Rabbits have sharp claws. How else do you suppose they build their little burrows?" Beorn asked.

There was a sudden and, to Bilbo, frightening silence as the Dwarves thought this new information through.

"No," said Bombur. "Apologies, Master Beorn, but he's nowhere near plump enough to be a rabbit!"

"You should know," muttered Nori, earning a whack to the head from Bofur.

Beorn was chortling again. His deep, raspy huffs of laughter followed him as he exited the room and went toward some other part of his Halls.

"And how have the rest of you been?" Gandalf questioned. "I do apologise for being so absent. Beorn had many questions."

"Resting, training, packing," Balin listed off. His eyebrows were crinkled as though he was trying hard to remember something, but his mouth smiled. "Anything else happened, lads?"

Murmurs of 'I can't think of anything' and that ilk trailed after Balin's words, with particularly meaningful looks headed Glóin and Bilbo's way.

"We have," Glóin said,"a new addition in our family."

Gandalf lit his pipe, humming thoughtfully. Inserting it into his mouth, he raised an eyebrow in interest. "Have you indeed? Who is this person?"

"Bilbo."

Gandalf's face betrayed nothing, but his eyes turned all at once sharp and focused. "I see."

There were no more words from their Wizard for the remainder of the meal.

* * *

It was very hot that night. Though Bilbo didn't seem to notice, if the way he curled himself up tightly and clung onto Glóin like a little limpet was any indication.

He did look happy. And peaceful. Content, as though he was in the very place he needed to be in the most.

After Gimli had been born, Glóin had taken one look at his weakened, trembling wife who smiled joyfully despite her pain as she cradled their newborn son, and he decided in that moment there would be no more children. How could he ever put his One through that kind of pain again? Yes, she smiled now, but he'd _heard_ the high-pitched screams, he'd _seen_ her face crumpled in agony. He'd heard her pleading for it all to be over.

No. He would never do that to his wife again. Neoma had agreed with this, saying quite confidently as she held Gimli, "Passing a babe just once is enough for me."

Sometimes his resolve weakened, particularly when he saw Gimli's eyes shine in longing as he was told of Dwalin and Balin's various mishaps, the mischief that his father and uncle had gotten into, of the Terrible Trio made up of Thorin and Frerin and Dís (though tales of Thorin and his two siblings were rarely told).  
Gimli looked at Óri and Fíli and Kíli with ill-disguised envy, for they had at least one brother.

Oh, Gimli was loved dearly, of course. All Dwarflings were. But his greatest longing, Glóin knew, was for a brother or sister.

He knew Neoma would love Bilbo. She was nurturing and warm-hearted, though no less tougher than any other Dwarrowdam. In fact, he knew her to be tougher, and stronger too, than any other Dwarrowdam.

Temporarily taking his thoughts away from Neoma,Glóin found the smooth, yet bumpy texture of Bilbo's family braid, gently touching it with his fingertips.

It felt he was carrying on a tradition. Two children he now had, same as his father and uncle and his grandfather.

Though, Fundin and Gróin would have a thing or two to say about their 39 year old sons heading off to steal from a Dragon. It was no place for a child. Yes, he knew Bilbo was an adult hobbit, but in Dwarrow years, he was a youngling and a very young one at that.

And he was now his. His son.

Glóin wrapped his arms around the slumbering form on his chest. Bilbo wriggled at the new contact, but didn't awake.

"I didn't expect this to happen." Gandalf's voice murmured.

Glóin glanced up at the Wizard. "Didn't hear you coming."

The Wizard 'hmmed' to himself. "Most extraordinary."

"I imagine plenty of things have happened without you thinking they would!" Glóin told him.

"Well, yes, but the thought never entered my mind."

Glóin shook his head. "It's not my fault I became fond of him."

"I didn't say that it was. I'm glad you've cared for him so much. He needs a family who truly loves him, rather than her."

Glóin didn't ask who "her" was. He'd heard Bilbo tell of a sticky-fingered cousin he was afflicted with far too many times to even bother asking.

"I'm glad." Gandalf said again. "As would Belladonna and Bungo be, though the dear fellow would be slightly panicked at the close proximity that often occurs between Bilbo and that ax of yours..."

"Ah, he's alright. Doesn't touch it or anything." Glóin glanced at Bilbo's curly head, suddenly feeling a tad suspicious. "Well, I hope not, anyways."

"So do I," Gandalf rumbled. "He stole my staff once when he was about nine years old, and blew the petals off his father's petunias."

There was no anger in the Wizard's voice as he told this tale and Glóin allowed himself a chuckle, imagining the scene. A little version of Bilbo, scampering around with the large staff, a guilty expression when he realised what he'd done.

Gandalf stood, amusement gone from his features. "You must remember, however, that hobbits are different to Dwarves. Very different indeed in strength, customs and methods of upbringing. You must continue to be careful."

"Aye, I will do." Glóin promised. "Gandalf?"

"Yes?"

"Despite what you said, I think you _did_ know something was going to happen."

"Hmm. Do you?" Gandalf questioned.

"Yes."

Gandalf hummed again. "Goodnight, Glóin."

And, as quickly as he'd arrived, the Wizard had vanished. Glóin gave the sleeping Shireling another sharp gaze.

"I ruddy well hope," he said, "that you've left my ax well alone, young hobbit!"

* * *

**I managed to get enough computer time! So, you can have this for being such lovely people :)**

**Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


	24. Knowing Limits

**About the last chapters: I have reason to believe Glóin holds knives on his person. Just to be prepared, you know. So, he uses his longest to practice with Bilbo.**

**_Good_**_** news**_.  
**I do have a second part planned for when the story finishes! It'll still take a long time, though!**

**_Bad news._  
****The thing is, the site _still_ won't let me upload new stories. So, I'll have to put any second installment that may occur at the end of this story, as even my second account won't work! Is that OK with you? There's nothing else for it, I'm sorry to say :/**

* * *

Glóin's advice to Bilbo turned out to be excellent advice indeed. The next lesson in swordfighting proved better with no weapons flying out of hands and, to his approval, no cursing from his little _pundurith_.

"You're doing well with your little sword, my lad," he praised at the end of the several hours, having seen Dwalin exiting the large building. "Very well indeed."

Bilbo beamed. "Thank you."

As they entered the skin-changer's Halls, Bilbo headed toward the washrooms, while Balin beckoned Glóin over, apparently havig something of great importance to discuss with him.

"My brother feels you have wounded him terribly." Balin said mildly.

"How have I managed that?"

"It seems _he_ wanted to be the one to train Bilbo."

Glóin snorted. "Cousin, I wouldn't _dream _of inflicting Dwalin on Bilbo."

"Just because he can be a wee bit intensive..."

"'A wee bit intensive'? He doesn't let his students go 'til he's happy. And that takes forever, you know it does. My poor lad would be half-dead by the time we reach the forest! And that," Glóin said, "is if he even lets Dwalin train him for so long at all."

"He wouldn't be that bad!" Balin argued.

"Oh, yes he would. _You_ weren't trained by him as a youngling."

Balin groaned. "Not this again."

"_Yes_, this again. Stuck in a room with naught but him and your weapon for company. Practically falling over your own feet at the end of it. Near drowning in your own sweat and blood! You wish for me to put Bilbo through that?"

"I would ensure," Balin said, his tone coaxing, "that Dwalin would do no such thing."

"Like you did with Gimli?"

"I mean it. I told him _'I'll ask Glóin, but you must promise to not run your student into the ground'_. And he did promise. Come now, you know Dwalin to be a good teacher."

Glóin sighed. "Very well," he conceded. "Bilbo does need to be able to defend himself and Dwalin can wield a sword better than I can. But I'll skin him alive if he doesn't be careful!"

* * *

In the corner of his eye, Glóin noticed Bilbo. He was still dry, and looked as though he'd witnessed something terrible. Standing, Glóin walked over to him, feeling concerned.

"What's wrong?"

Bilbo looked doubtful. "I.. um. Nothing's _wrong, _but I saw something I don't think I should've."

"Was it bad?"

"No, it was more a thing of... well, it wasn't _bad_, really."

"Did you see... a couple?"

Bilbo nodded, the tips of his ears reddening.

"Aye, that's alright. These things happen. Just ask Óin!"

Sliding an arm 'round Bilbo's shoulders, he brought him back inside, missing completely the nervous look that had overcome the hobbit's expression at the mention of Óin.

* * *

It hadn't been his fault, Bilbo reflected as he smoked his pipe, staring at the shining stars above. He'd only intended on going in to have a bath. He'd certainly not meant to witness Bifur and Óin's sudden closeness.

This was no strange Dwarven custom. Bilbo knew exactly what he'd seen and wished he hadn't. Glóin had the most awful ability of knowing just about everything that went on in Bilbo's mind. It had been a wonder that the Dwarf accepted the explanation.

'No need to dwell," he told himself, puffing a small cloud of smoke into the dark air. 'It's good that they're happy. Óin can let Gl- Adad know when he wants to.'

He spotted the moon, rising up and gleaming a beautiful silvery-white. Breathing in once more, he pursed his lips as his parents had taught him, attempting for the first time in weeks to create a smoke-ring.

The first success was tiny. So small that Bilbo nearly laughed at the sight of it. He had another try, watching his second circle rise and widen, dwarfing the first.

"That's clever work, akhûnith."

He'd wondered how long it would be 'til Glóin would seek him out. The Dwarrow often let him have his solitude, but invariably sought him out, perhaps worrying for him or merely curious. Bilbo could never tell and never felt like he could ask.

"Thank you. Can you do them?" Bilbo questioned, lightly patting the bottom of the bowl so that its powdery ashes scattered to the grass they stood on.

"I never mastered the skill." Glóin answered. "When Óin and I were beardlings, our _adad_ would ask us what shapes the smoke from his pipe made. This was before he allowed a pipe into our hands, mind."

Bilbo's eyes were wide. "My papa did that, too." he said quite softly. "He didn't let me smoke until I turned 31."

"Thirty one! Da would growl at us if we so much as looked to his pipe 'til the age of sixty!"

Bilbo grinned and looked away, a new memory flashing in his mind. To his Adad's surprise, he began giggling.

"What's so amusing, little _pundurith_?"

"Oh, I was terrible." Bilbo coughed between laughter.

"Oh?"

"My papa kept his pipe on the mantelpiece. When I was fifteen... curiosity got the better of me..." Bilbo sheepishly trailed off, glancing at Glóin with apologetic green eyes.

"Tell me you didn't try it for yourself!"

"I did." Bilbo confessed, hanging his head. "I nearly coughed my lungs up!"

"It served you right, trying to smoke so young!" Glóin growled, though he instinctively placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "By Aüle! Hobbits seem to rival Dwarflings in their love of mischief."

"My mother nearly cried laughing." Bilbo recalled. "My papa was less than pleased, as you can imagine. He would have scolded me all day if I hasn't been so shaken up by it."

A mere scolding for disobedience? Gróin would have clumped his sons 'round their heads for such an act. And that would have been lenient!

Not that their Adad had been harsh or cruel. He was a soft old devil and had been informed of such on multiple occasions, which had only made him smile.  
Perhaps hobbit fathers were gentler than Dwarrow fathers.

"G- Adad? Are you alright?" Bilbo questioned, lightly tugging Glóin's sleeve.

"Aye, my laddie. Just thinking."

"What of?"

"When your mother and your papa were still here.." Glóin stopped, unsure of how to continue. How could he ask this?

"Yes?" Bilbo prompted.

"When they were still on Arda and you misbehaved, which likely occurred regularly..."

Bilbo interrupted with a small snicker, but nodded for Glóin to continue.

"What did they do?" Glóin finished.

"Ah." Bilbo sobered himself up. "Well, my papa dealt with it mostly. They'd give me a right earful, but if I was in true trouble, they'd almost roar at me."

"Why only-?"

"'Only'? Have you ever heard a hobbit bellow at someone?"  
Before his adad could answer, Bilbo hastily said, "I don't count. I mean really angry, livid shouting. Like when Gandalf gets angry."

Glóin sincerely hoped he would never make a hobbit so cross. "Are you sure now? If you were a wee lad, it could've seemed more frightening than it actually was."

"It did seem frightening. The last time either shouted was when I was 18. I'd been caught raiding Farmer Maggott's field."

He'd ended up with the world's most mischievous hobbit, Glóin realised. A raid on a farmer's field!

"That's what most hobbit parents do," Bilbo said. "What of dwarf parents?"

"Dwarves have tough skin and rarely feel pain. Parents will often clout their children for misbehaviour."

Bilbo blinked. "But doesn't that hurt?"

"That's the general idea. The pain serves as a reminder for several hours-"

"Hours?!"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Bilbo looked down at Glóin's hands which suddenly seemed very large and terrifying. He shivered and Glóin swiftly brought him into his arms.

"I would not strike you. Hobbits are softer creatures- no, don't look at me like that, they are and you know it. No. I'd likely kill you with one hit or end up leaving a mark."

"I honestly can't imagine you hitting."

"I don't if I can help it."

And Gimli had turned out wonderfully despite what that pinch-faced dignitary from the Iron Hills had to say.

"Would it be unfair? One of us not getting, um.."

"As I told you, it's a rare thing for me. A rare thing indeed, and I'd rather not cause you harm. Answering for your mistakes to a parent should not leave a hint of a mark."

"But, really, do you honestly believe that one day you will have to... do something?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why so?"

"I know you far too well, that's why. Getting yourself in danger and wounding yourself every five seconds. By the time we reach Erebor, I'll be grey."

"You'd look like Balin." Bilbo informed him, burying his head into Glóin's shoulder.

Glóin gave him a mock-glare. "Why, you cheeky young devil!"

Bilbo chuckled, pulling away to smile at him. "I was joking."

"So I should hope." Glóin replied, though he smiled back. "'Ere, speaking of Balin.."

* * *

**Mother of God, this was awkward to write! Well, you know Dwarf parents continue to raise their children up to the ages of 70 and up? Well, you see, Glóin is a pretty stern person. Kind of like Thorin.  
****The point is, Dwarves have tough skin. This has been generally accepted. I may be wrong, but when it comes to them punishing their children for doing things they shouldn't have, I believe they use y'know old-fashioned methods to deal with it, if you know what I am saying.**

**However, Glóin is fully aware that Bilbo is no Dwarf. He knows Hobbits to be softer of skin. He would _never _hit Bilbo. _I need you to understand this. I need you to uderstand why this chapter happened. _  
It's for you and it's a way for Glóin to know what he can do when his new child does something wrong.**

** Hope it was enjoyed!**

**Love from Shania. xx**


End file.
